


The Abnormal Psyche

by Coherent_Nonsense



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), F/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Avengers (2012), Romance, Some Pre-Thor backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-02-10 03:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12903054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coherent_Nonsense/pseuds/Coherent_Nonsense
Summary: Five months before Loki’s trial, Sigyn, a young academic, receives a request from Frigga to assess her son’s mental health. She agrees, but when Amora gets involved with a plot to help Loki escape, Sigyn develops some serious doubts about her future – and about Loki’s.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this fic waaaaaay back before The Dark World came out, wrote most of it, and then never finished. Recently I opened it back up just to see how it was and realised there wasn’t actually that much left to write. I’ve filled in the blanks and added some superficial details from TDW (like what the dungeons look like), but it’s only consistent with the films up to and including The Avengers. There are quite a few original characters (or semi-original ones – who appear in the comics but not the films) and an Asgard fleshed out with details from my imagination, so if that’s your thing I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> The fic is completely finished, so I will be updating with a chapter a week – unless I forget. If I do, I’m really sorry. But the chapters do exist and you can expect twelve of them.

_Honourable Lady Sigyn,_

_You may have heard rumours in recent weeks concerning my sons and their return from Midgard. The few I have heard are inaccurate and cruel, but I do not doubt that more have been in circulation. I hope you will set aside any prejudgements you may have while reading this letter._

_I have written to you to request your professional assistance in a matter of great personal importance. You are, I presume, aware that Thor travelled to Midgard with the purpose of retrieving his brother, who had been believed dead since the destruction of the bifrost. Loki has committed acts on Midgard that cannot go unpunished, and it is concerning this that I am anxious._

_It is clear to me upon observing Loki’s violent and erratic behaviour that his mind has become wildly unstable. I believe him to be suffering from a severe mental affliction – a belief also held by those who encountered him on Midgard. Loki is currently being held in the dungeons below the palace and it is Odin’s intention to leave him there indefinitely, but I fear such a sentence will only worsen his mental state._ _I am working to convince the Allfather to hold a full trial for Loki, in the hope that his illness will be acknowledged and a more appropriate punishment devised._

_It is in this that I request your assistance: at the very least, he needs a competent academic to confirm that his actions are the result of a sickness, not of inherent evil, and that there is hope for his recovery if sufficient mercy be shown. You, as Asgard’s foremost expert in illnesses of the mind, may be the only inhabitant of this realm qualified to help me. Were you able to prove Loki’s madness remediable, the House of Odin would be eternally grateful, and would ensure that you were suitably repaid for your services._

_That is all I require, but my fondest hope, although I concede that it would be a difficult venture, is that my son will be cured of his ailment and become the man he once was. For this reason, I would like to personally request that you take Loki on as a patient and assist him on his way to recovery. I have heard about your great successes in the past, and believe you may be invaluable to him in the coming years._

_I understand if you would prefer to decline this latter request, and will not take offense if that is what you decide. I urge you, however, not to decline the former. I fear that without sufficient defence, Loki will be dealt too harsh a punishment and all chances of his return to good health will be permanently crushed._

_I eagerly anticipate your response,_

_Frigga Fjörgynnsdottir_

-xxx-

The letter had arrived early that morning courtesy of a loud and impatient raven. Sigyn had been in the middle of dressing and was startled into knocking over a pile of books as it rapped its humungous beak against her window. She pulled on a dress before letting it in, and when the raven had flown in and perched itself impertinently on the end of her bed, a neighbour leaned out of a nearby window.

“Keep the noise down, girl! That infernal bird woke me up!”

“It’s not my bird,” she called in response, and the neighbour retreated back inside his house with a huff of irritation.

The raven stuck out its foot and dropped a piece of rolled up parchment onto the floor. It tilted its head as though sizing her up, and looked distinctly unimpressed before it spread its absurd wings and flew back out of the room.

Sigyn grabbed the parchment and was about to drop it onto the other papers piled up on her desk when the seal caught her eye. It was glittering gold in colour and portrayed the elegant profile of a cat – Queen Frigga’s seal.

She hesitated before breaking the seal and sitting down to read.

Now she stood in her office, having arrived at the Academy a full hour late, sipping a hot beverage. Hrefna, her closest colleague, was looking over the letter.

Sigyn ventured to the window while Hrefna read and gazed over the gardens. The building was tall – the Academy was comprised of three gleaming pillars in the centre of the city, connected by walkways and floating shards where certain laboratories could be free from gravity – but her office was near the ground. The view was not spectacular, and she couldn’t gaze out over the glittering city like academics with more prestigious offices could, but at least she had a window.

Hrefna slammed the letter down onto the desk and Sigyn turned back to the pale stone room.

“Frigga _Fjörgynnsdottir_. She signed it Frigga Fjörgynnsdottir. Not ‘Allmother’, not ‘Her Majesty Queen of Asgard’. Frigga Fjörgynnsdottir. I didn’t even know what her patronymic was.”

“Somewhat missing the point, Hrefna,” Sigyn said.

Hrefna picked the letter up again, pouring over it excitedly.

“Sigyn, this is incredible. ‘ _Asgard’s foremost expert in illnesses of the mind’_ – she means you!”

Sigyn smiled weakly as Hrefna hurried over and embraced her. “Yes, well. I don’t exactly have a lot of competition.”

There was a reason her office was on a lower floor. Asgard’s warrior culture permeated even its academic halls, and warriors didn’t have much time for psychological wellbeing.

Hrefna ignored her. “When do you start? Have you sent a reply?”

“No, I – I’m not certain if I want to.”

Hrefna gaped.

Sigyn shuffled past her, strode to the desk and sat down, lifting a stack of papers to clear the chair and, after seeing no space on the desk, dumping them onto the floor beside her.

“It is not a decision easily made,” she said, pretending to organise her notes. “And besides, she has misunderstood my work. She has asked me to take him on as a patient. I am not a healer. I’m not certain I could fulfil her request.”

Hrefna was not about to allow Sigyn to hide behind a desk. She moved to stand directly opposite her, placing her hands on the desk and sliding the parchment across to her friend.

“It is a royal summons. You cannot refuse it.”

“It is not a summons!” Sigyn’s voice was laced with irritation. “If I had known how overexcited you would get I would not have shown you.”

“But Sigyn,” Hrefna responded, not changing her position. “You cannot toss this aside. It is more than a request; it is a declaration of support. If you accept, you affiliate yourself with the House of Odin. Think how that would assist your work! If I got a letter from the queen requesting help I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Sigyn stood. “I know that. And it wouldn’t be the same for you – what would she ask you to do? You’d only have to translate something. Quite a bit less personal risk, don’t you think?”

“I cannot believe you are throwing such an opportunity away.”

“I didn’t say I would refuse, I said I was not certain.”

“Why are you not certain?”

“Because,” Sigyn said, and realised that she could produce no real grounds for her uncertainty. Yes, there was a good chance she would fail, and yes, she might be risking her safety, but she had requested access to the dungeons in the past with no success, and now she had been given it freely. She had longed for the chance to examine severely disturbed minds. If she were able to gather enough data she could write a book on the topic.

“See?” Hrefna interrupted her thoughts. “You cannot give a reason. I think you are afraid.”

Afraid. Perhaps she was.

After a while, Hrefna returned to her own office to resume her ancient Álfar translations, leaving Sigyn alone with her thoughts. The letter from Queen Frigga sat in the corner of her desk, face down, all day. She could see it in the corner of her eye, the broken royal seal glaring at her with indignation at being ignored.

It wasn’t until she returned home, pushing and shoving her way through the tavern to reach the steps that led up to her small quarters on the floor above, that she reread the letter.

And read it again.

She was being irrational. There was no reason why she should not accept the work. The feeling in her stomach that halted her reply – could that really just be fear? Fear of failure or of success? She had been searching for an opportunity like this for so long, and now that it was here, was she really going to refuse it?

She picked up an empty sheet of paper and searched the room for a quill. When she returned to her desk, she did not hesitate. She wrote.

As Sigyn composed her reply with the sound of laughter and drunken merriment drifting up from the floor below, she suspected that this could be a turning point in her career. This letter would cement her fate. What she certainly did not suspect, though, was the nature of the fate she was securing herself. She was standing blindfolded on the edge of a treacherous precipice. The wind was urging her forward, and the sweet scent of the sea raging against the rocks below enticed her uncertain feet to make that simple step over the edge. Blindfolded as she was, she couldn’t see that the part of her that sensed the drop was right. Perhaps the Norns had planned this for her, and, despite her earlier indecision, there was never really any chance for her to refuse Frigga’s request. Perhaps the plummet into that unknowable sea had always been her destiny.

When the tip of her quill touched the paper, Sigyn’s feet slipped from the cliff’s edge and she had no hope now of halting her descent.

 

-xxx-

 

“How dare you go behind my back! I am the king and I will decide the fate of my prisoners.”

“And I am a mother, doing what is best for her child!”

Word of Frigga’s letter had spread fast – how, she wasn’t sure, but Odin had always been bound to find out before her plan was put into action, and she was ready for him.

“A mother does not outrank a king.”

“You are not just a king, but a father too!”

Frigga had been reading in her private rooms, enjoying a quiet afternoon with her handmaidens, when Odin stormed through the door in a rage, a copy of the letter in his hand. The handmaidens had scattered, bolting from the room upon his furious command, and Frigga had placed a marker in her book and stood up to face him. Though she had been preparing for this very argument for days, once it began she found it difficult to keep her own temper in check.

“Do you think I am unaware? Or do you think me heartless?”

“Heartless? You would have had him killed if I hadn’t intervened! Of course you are heartless!”

“I–” He faltered, and some of the rage seeped away. “You know I would have retracted that order before it was carried out.”

She did. But that was not the point.

“There needs to be a trial – a _fair_ trial – before you let your fury override your sense.”

He shook his head, starting to pace. “We cannot be seen to offer him dispensation just because–”

“A trial is not dispensation, it is standard practice.” Frigga stood her ground, unwilling to be shrugged off.

“You may have your trial,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “That is not the issue. The issue is that we have never tried to claim violent madness an affliction, and now that our son is facing punishment we cannot suddenly decide that it is and lighten his sentence. The people will not stand for it!” He stopped pacing on this last sentence, turning to face her.

She went to a nearby table and picked up a small book. “We were wrong in the past,” she said. “We have known Loki all his life, and though he has never been perfect, he did not seem capable of what he has now done. How do you explain that? Were we blind for all these centuries?” She handed Odin the book.

“What is this?”

“This is one of the studies that prompted my letter. Our healing techniques are advanced, but we have been neglecting an important field. I am not trying to excuse our son’s crimes, but to find a way he could return to us.”

Odin did not open the book, even to scan its page of contents. “Frigga, this is wishful thinking. You are putting an innocent in danger and wasting her time.”

“She will be protected at all times, and no study is ever wasted.”

“The point remains that you did this without my permission.” Odin tossed the book onto one of Frigga’s chairs. “I cannot have you giving him preferential treatment without consulting me. It will be misconstrued by the public.”

“Let them misconstrue. He is my son and I will help him however I can. Any mother would.”

Odin looked at her in silence for a long time.

“You may no longer enter the dungeons. No more gifts or furniture. If you wish to speak with him, you may do it as a projection. There will be fewer rumours.”

Even after all this time, Frigga bristled when her husband gave her orders. He was the king, however, and she knew he had the realm’s best interests at heart. As long as he had not cut her off from her son entirely, she could respect his instruction.

She nodded, and Odin left. The book she had handed him sat unread on a chair, but he had taken the discovery of her actions better than she had hoped, and he had promised Loki a trial. She would consider today’s argument more success than failure.

Before she could settle back down in her seat and call for her handmaidens, there was a familiar knocking at her door. She supposed now she would find out how Thor had taken the discovery, too.

 

-xxx-

 

Two weeks later, Frigga and Thor waited in one of the palace’s smaller and less impressive reception halls. She and Sigyn had exchanged several letters since her initial response, and had met in a conference room at the Academy. She had been impressed by her confidence and assertiveness, even in the presence of a queen, and felt more sure of her decision every day.

They had discussed many things about Loki: his nature, his past, his madness – she answered any questions the academic had and promised to continue answering questions as they arose. She had seemed particularly interested in the circumstances surrounding Loki’s fall from the bifrost and, to her credit, had managed not to appear too disturbed by a true account of the events – less disturbed than Frigga herself felt upon repeating it, at any rate.

There was still so much that she did not know, but that could come later. For now she merely needed to diagnose Loki – preferably soon. Although she knew that preparation was important, she was tired of the delay and needed to push things along. Today would be Sigyn’s first day in the dungeons.

“Mother, are you certain of this?” Thor’s voice drew her out of her thoughts and back to the present. His features were twisted with concern.

She smiled gently. “I am certain.”

“What do you hope to achieve?” Though her smile had never failed to placate him in the past, it failed now. “You have saved him from execution – let that be enough.”

“You must have hope, Thor. Your brother will recover.”

“You didn’t see him on Midgard as I did, Mother. If you had you would not be so gentle with him. He will do nothing but terrorise this woman.”

Frigga understood her son’s concern, but what she had seen of Sigyn so far gave her hope. Perhaps Thor would agree with her after today. “She is very well qualified. She has published several texts on the abnormal psyche and has assisted Eir in healing a number of difficult cases that would previously have been considered hopeless. Her seniors at the Academy recommend her highly and after my personal interactions with her, I feel that she will do well with the task I have given her.”

Thor gave a doubtful grunt and was about to reply when they were interrupted by the opening of golden doors. A pair of guards stepped through and bowed.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” one of them said. “Sigyn Osvaldrsdóttir.”

Before the guards had finished announcing her arrival, Sigyn had entered the hall, gazing around in wonder, her eyes tracing the murals of ancient battles on the walls, sweeping across the arched ceiling, and eventually falling on Frigga and Thor. It was almost as though she had never seen such a room. Then again, she was Vanir; since she hadn’t grown up in Asgard, it was perfectly possible that she had never been inside the palace.

“Your Majesty,” she said, giving a bow. “Your Highness.” Nervous but composed – promising.

“Lady Sigyn,” Frigga approached her and folded her into a hug. “You cannot fathom my gratefulness for your presence here today. I am in your debt.”

“Honestly, you should not feel in any way obliged. Your request is a noble one, and I am glad to be of assistance.” Sigyn smiled at Frigga, but her eyes drifted to Thor, who was looking at her with no attempt to mask his apprehension.

“Lady Sigyn,” he said as his manners kicked in. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Mother had told me much about you.”

He bent to kiss her hand and Frigga watched as a faint blush crept into her cheeks.

“So how is this to be done?” Sigyn asked as Thor stepped away.

“Thor will take you to the dungeons,” Frigga answered. “I have been forbidden to enter, but I will send a projection now to speak with Loki. He will be prepared for your arrival. Are you ready?”

Sigyn did her best to be stoic, but Frigga didn’t miss her fingers tightening on the notebook she held. “I am.”

“Then you must go. Good luck.”

 

-xxx-

 

Curiosity glittered in Sigyn’s features as Thor led her down to the prison. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she excited? Afraid? He could not read her face, and that concerned him. What would Loki make of her? He had been worrying over that from the moment his mother had explained her plan to him, but he worried even more now that he had met the woman whose help she had sought – if woman was the right word. She was little older than a girl, not exceptionally pretty, but possessed of the softness and vitality of youth and wide brown eyes that spoke volumes of innocence. He doubted the wisdom of leaving someone so young alone in Loki’s company. As intelligent as she may be, Loki would not leave any vulnerability unexploited. Would she be able to hold her ground? He had rarely questioned his Mother’s judgement, but he did now. He didn’t know if he could bear to be part of leading this girl into danger.

The dungeons were far beneath the palace, lower even than the vaults and tunnels, and it took time to reach them. No light reached this low, and there was no particular need for brightness, so many corridors and staircases were lit with nothing more than enchanted torches and lamps. All the while, Sigyn’s eyes drank in the unfamiliar sights, her uneasiness seeming to seep away as curiosity overwhelmed her nerves. Neither of them spoke.

Thor stopped when they reached a large metal door flanked by two guards and he paused, watching Sigyn as a flicker of apprehension returned to her eyes.

“Lady Sigyn,” he said, turning to face her. Her eyes darted to the closed door before meeting his. “This door does not lead into the cell. We still have a short way to walk, but there are some things I must explain to you first.”

She nodded, and her gaze urged him to hurry up.

“You know why my Mother has requested your presence here, and she is certain of your abilities. It is not my place to question her, but I could not allow you into this dungeon in good conscience without a warning. You must be cautious around my brother. Be ever vigilant, and never allow your guard to fall. He has committed unforgivable crimes, and has lost his regard for all life – including his own.”

Sigyn seemed taken aback by his words, but she did not interrupt. He wondered if his mother had said anything like this to her, and was glad he had chosen to speak.

“He will not hesitate to manipulate or attack you,” he continued. “Loki has always been clever, and his madness has made that attribute dangerous. You must never take his words as they come – always consider them carefully.”

A slight frown creased Sigyn’s forehead and she appeared to contemplate his words. He hoped she would take them to heart.

“You need not be concerned, your highness,” Sigyn eventually replied, seeming to choose her words carefully. “I am a professional, and you have my assurances that I will use the utmost caution in dealing with your brother.”

Thor pulled his lips tight. “I am certain you will, Lady Sigyn, but that does not ease my heart.”

“I understand,” she said earnestly. “You are concerned that I am not up to this task. You may be right, but I will do my best to prove you wrong.”

“I do not question your abilities, my Lady. I question my brother’s receptiveness.”

“Your mother believes there is a chance for him. Perhaps he will prove you wrong as well.”

“I sincerely hope he does.”

Turning to the door, he motioned to the guards. They opened the doors.

“You must proceed alone, Lady Sigyn,” Thor said. “I have no wish to see my brother, and he will be more inclined to accept your presence if I am absent.”

Sigyn faced the open door, steeling her expression.

 

-xxx-

 

Frigga’s projection stood in the centre of Loki’s cell. Making no move to stand up from sitting on his bed, he glowered at her.

“She is on her way here now,” Frigga said. “There is nothing you can say to convince me to change my mind.”

“There is plenty I can say to make _her_ change her mind.”

“Loki,” she warned, “you are not to abuse her, do you understand me?”

He stood now, his hands balled into fists. “I am not a child, Mother. You do not give me orders.”

She raised her voice a shade to compete with his. “It’s not an order, Loki, it’s an appeal to your manners. She is here at my request and she will be treated with respect.”

“She can have my respect when she earns it.”

He had not submitted, but his tone had softened and he began to walk around the cell – a method she had noticed him using in the past to calm himself down. Frigga took the opportunity to continue.

“I have met with Sigyn a number of times now. I believe you will enjoy her company if you give her a fair chance.”

“And what good would it do if I did?”

“You know very well.”

She watched him as he continued pacing. Eventually he came to a stop, looking at her.

“You really think she will influence Odin’s decision? I have never thought you foolish, but this?”

She looked into her son’s eyes. She didn’t understand why she was the only one to recognise the old Loki in this new shell.

“I realise this approach is unorthodox, but please, Loki, give it a chance. For me.”

He didn’t respond. That was good – or, at least, it was better than another refusal. She doubted he would be courteous to Sigyn, but perhaps after this talk he would at least be something approaching civil.

 

-xxx-

 

The dungeons were disconcertingly lit. Inside the cells the light was harsh and filled every corner evenly, but in the corridor that cut through them there was no light save what emanated from the cells, and not much spilled out. It was cold, too, and suffocating. The silence and stillness were so thick that Sigyn thought she might choke on it, and she wondered how anyone survived here. Privacy, too, was forgotten. In each cell, three of the four walls were composed of light and glass, thick with enchantment but completely transparent. Guards stood at intervals around the dungeon, gazing steadily into the cells, watching the occupants. The fourth wall was white and featureless, and the cells contained no furniture, no entertainment, and no comfort.

The majority of the cells were empty, and had been for some time. She peered curiously into the first occupied cell she saw. A man sat against the far wall, staring blankly. He didn’t seem to notice her at all, but she realised that she recognised him. Ofieg Kjallakson, a former councillor. He had been imprisoned a century ago for plotting treason.

The next occupied cell she came across contained another well-known figure. Rannvieg Onämsdóttir, the Cannibal of Álfheim; a female elf infamous in Asgard for the bout of grisly murders she had committed two centuries ago. Her eerie yellow gaze followed Sigyn as she walked past, and the young woman shuddered before looking away.

Two more cells contained men she did not know, one of whom scowled and hissed “Vanir bitch!” as she passed. A fifth cell was home to a red haired woman with what seemed to be a gilded cage fixed to the bottom half of her head. Sigyn looked at her with open curiosity and was met with a blistering glare.

She was nearing the end of the corridor now, and fear fought with curiosity for her attention. In a sixth cell, a small man mumbled to himself and rubbed his hands together, totally unaware of her presence. Through the transparent far side of his cell, Sigyn caught a glimpse of furniture, of a table piled with books, a bowl of fruit and a bed. Her heart flipped with anxiety as she continued, comforted only mildly by the presence of guards.

As she walked, the cell came completely into view. A man stood with his back to her. She stopped in front of the cell. It had to be this one. There were no more and he hadn’t been in any of the others. Besides, why would he have furniture if he weren’t a prince?

She had barely been stood there for two seconds when the man turned to face her.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post two chapters to begin with. You can expect chapter 3 on Thursday (haha - Thorsday) and after that I'll post one a week.

Sigyn had entered with her best approximation of self-assurance, but as her eyes fell upon the disgraced prince, her confidence fled. He was dressed casually, but was immaculately presented. No clothes were creased; no hair was out of place. His skin was pale and smooth, and his face refined. This, however, was not what struck her; it was his bearing and expression. He looked at once stately and savage, composed and feral. There was a suppressed rage sparkling in his eyes, and a tension in his body that promised violence.

When he looked at her she felt as though his gaze had fixed her to the spot.

“Hello, Loki,” she said, and was disconcerted by how different her voice sounded. It seemed everything was different down here.

“Hello,” he said, already sounding bored after a single word. “Sigyn Osvaldrsdóttir. I was expecting you. Although I must admit, I was expecting someone more mature.”

“As was I,” she replied dryly. She wasn’t going to tolerate bullying.

He didn’t seem phased by her insolence.

“An authentic Vanir accent. Soft, but it’s there. It has been a long time since I have heard one of those. Where are you from? Binnevik? Fjellheim?”

Not what she had expected him to focus on, but ok.

“I was born in Binnevik, yes, but I have been in Asgard for many years now.”

“Studying.”

“Yes. And working.”

His stare didn’t waver and her unease built on his continued stillness.

“Why so curious about Vanaheim?”

He offered her a caustic smile. “I have _known_ many Vanir.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do? Innuendo? They told me you were clever.”

She waited for him to respond and was disappointed. Resisting the urge to shift her weight lest he take it as an admission of discomfort, she wished she had brought a chair. The one sitting in the corner of Loki’s cell was looking very inviting, and fleetingly she wondered what he would do if she went to take it. She could enter the cell at any time, of course. That was the nature of the enchanted barrier. The prisoner could not leave, but anyone else could walk in and out as they pleased. She wasn’t stupid, though. She stayed where she was.

“Your cell is nice,” she said. “Nicer than the other cells, anyway. Did Frigga bring you that furniture?”

He ignored her.

“I suppose with such little privacy even the most luxurious surroundings would be uncomfortable. I’ve been told you’ve always preferred your own space.”

Still nothing.

“You have some charming dungeon-mates,” she said. Even she was beginning to tire of the small talk, but she had to keep trying. “Traitors, cannibals, bigots. All on sliding scales of ill-mannered and vocal. Does that gentleman always mutter to himself?”

He moved his head to throw a glance to the neighbouring cell and Sigyn felt her body relax slightly at the shift of his attention.

“Yes. All the time. It is infuriating.”

Sigyn was careful not to let it show on her face how satisfied she was to have coaxed him into a response.

“And on the other end of the spectrum, there is the lady with the gilded muzzle who does not utter a sound,” she said.

“Lorelei,” he said, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “She has been in these dungeons for six centuries. Almost as long as Rannvieg.”

“First names? You seem very familiar with them.”

“I should be. I helped to put them here.”

Sigyn turned to look down the corridor into the women’s cells. “Did you? I’d like to hear those stories one day.”

When she looked back, Loki had turned away and moved to sit on the chair.

“You won’t have the chance,” he said. “I won’t see you again.”

“Yes you will,” she assured him. She opened a notebook she was carrying and wrote the date and ‘session 1’ at the top. She scribbled a few notes about what he’d said to her so far. It was time to get down to business. “I won’t stay for too long today because you will need some time to grow accustomed to me, but I will be coming back the day following tomorrow and will eventually settle into a routine of three or four visits per week, depending on how well I think you are doing.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “What gives you the authority to decide how I am doing?”

“Your mother did when she requested my assistance.”

“She isn’t my mother. Didn’t she tell you that?” He spoke lightly, but the set of his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. Sigyn made a note.

“No, she still calls you her son. Is that how you truly feel?”

“It’s factually true. How I _feel_ doesn’t come into it.”

Sigyn stayed still, observing him. She could sense the balance of power in the conversation tipping in her favour, and from the look of him, Loki could sense it too. As his anger rose, his control over the situation lessened. She wasn’t sure whether pushing him on their first meeting was a good idea or a terrible one, but part of her wanted to test how long he could keep his cool and what he would do when he lost it.

“You found out just over a year ago, didn’t you? About your heritage?” His eyes flashed. She continued. “Around the time you fell from the bifrost. Is that correct?”

“You clearly already know it is.”

“That must have been difficult. Yet you went back to Jotunheim, didn’t you? You went to speak with Laufey before giving him access to the palace. Why? Did you speak with him about your birth?”

Before Sigyn could blink, Loki was on his feet and had smashed a fist against the barrier that separated them. She flinched in shock and stumbled back a step. His face was ablaze.

“I have been patient!” he bellowed at her, then his voice sunk so low she had to force her frazzled nerves into submission and strain her ears to hear him. “I have been patient with you at the request of my mother, but now my patience has ended. You have no right to pry into my personal affairs. You will not return here. I will never see your face or hear your irritating voice again.”

For a moment, Sigyn was stunned. Yeah, maybe it hadn’t been wise to push him after all. She hadn’t expected him to grow violent so quickly. Part of her wanted to do as he said and leave, but another part – the stronger part – knew she couldn’t back down now. He would think he could intimidate her into silence, and that wasn’t the tone she wanted to set for these meetings. She searched her mind for something to say, something that would prove she meant business.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened in the abyss?” she asked abruptly.

He reeled back, outrage splashed across his features.

“Excuse me?”

“The abyss. That was where your madness began, was it not?

“I am not mad!”

“Many would beg to differ,” she countered.

“I have seen things those many could never imagine,” he said, and the madness he claimed he didn’t have was dancing in his eyes. “Neither they nor you have any conception of the horrors I have witnessed. I am not mad. I am enlightened.”

She nearly laughed – partly to counteract her astonishment and fear and partly because he looked and sounded so absurd. “And what is the use of your enlightenment in a cage?”

“This cell will not hold me indefinitely.”

Despite her full and honest trust of magical technology, she couldn’t help but feel a jolt of anxiety – so strong was his conviction at that moment that it almost felt like the barrier between them did not exist.

“It doesn’t need to. After your trial it is not likely they will return you.”

Loki did not react to this news, although he did reply: “where else would they keep me?”

Sigyn didn’t know. Truthfully, they might well put him back. What else _could_ they do with him? Nonetheless, she steeled her nerves and lied.

“There is talk of a harsher punishment. Your crimes stretch from theft to attempted genocide – never before has one individual been guilty of such varied and numerous offenses. The public would be outraged if you were to be given a sentence as light as imprisonment.”

He smirked, and she fought to hold her nerve.

“Lies, my Lady? Already? I know already I will not be executed.” His mocking tone made her feel foolish. “I know you and my mother think cooperation would earn me a softer sentence, but that belief is laughable. What else is there? Do you think I could be moved to a bigger cell? Perhaps one with a more pleasant view?”

She forced herself to smile. She didn’t think it was very convincing.

“Mock all you like. I am not here because I care what happens to you, although you can believe that if you like,” she said. “I’m here because Frigga cares, and because yes, I can secure you a softer sentence. You would do well to cooperate.”

He did not look impressed. This was going to be harder than she anticipated.

 

-xxx-

 

That afternoon, Sigyn was due to meet with Theoric for a walk. The exact date of their wedding was yet to be decided, but neither of them wanted it to be a long engagement. Sigyn believed her mother might actually combust if she was kept waiting much longer. However, the two had decided that a significant amount of awkwardness could be avoided if they knew each other a little better beforehand, and had been meeting up every once in a while when neither of them was busy. This was to be their fourth meeting since the betrothal, and while a walk would have been more appropriate, Sigyn managed to steer Theoric into a tavern instead. It wasn’t busy at this time of day, and she _really_ needed a drink.

“So Sigyn,” he said once they had sat down in a comfortable booth with two beautiful foamy tankards of ale. “What has made you so stressed?”

The question was innocent, but the pointed look at her tankard as she guzzled a fairly large helping of ale forced her to put the drink down and laugh.

“I apologise if you were eager for a walk,” she said.

“No no, I am quite content to be here. It is nice to see that you enjoy your ale. Tell me what troubles you. Is it your work?”

Sigyn nodded. “I was at the palace today.”

“Your meetings with the prince have begun already?”

“Unfortunately,” she paused to drink down another gulp. “He is terrifying.”

It was Theoric’s turn to laugh. “He was always intimidating, even to me. Now that he has lost his mind I can only imagine.”

Sigyn tilted her head curiously. She hadn’t thought about discussing her work with Theoric, but as a Crimson Hawk who had worked in the Palace for centuries, it occurred to her that he might provide a useful perspective.

“He was intimidating to _you_?”

“Yes,” he admitted, shaking his head at himself. “I could never reason why. He is not physically threatening, though I have seen him training and admit he is a formidable warrior. I think it was in his eyes – a streak of ruthlessness. Perhaps he has always possessed a hint of madness.”

“Perhaps,” Sigyn said, but they could pursue this topic another time. “How has your week been?”

Theoric leaned back in his seat and breathed deeply. “It has been growing steadily worse. The Allfather is not a young man, and while his power is still unequalled, recent events have made him weary.”

“Is there still tension with Nidavellir?”

“Unfortunately, and since the reconstruction of the bifrost there have been more troubles than usual. The marauders are more numerous than initially believed, so we will be busy for some time to come. I may be transferred temporarily to the Einherjar to assist. And… You must swear not to speak a word of this,” he leaned in, his voice low, and Sigyn leaned in to match. “There are rumours of Loki’s allies approaching Asgard from the void.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

Recently all her conversations seemed to lead back to Loki.

“It could be disastrous if it is true,” Theoric continued, “but for now it is merely a rumour. It could easily have been started by the mad Prince himself, so I would guess that it has about a two in three chance of being a lie.”

Sigyn nodded, taking another gulp of ale.

“I suppose this makes my task more urgent,” she said. “If they are coming, any information I can glean from Loki could save lives.”

Although Sigyn and Theoric had been getting along well, awkward silences were still commonplace. As this most recent one descended, Sigyn stared into her ale. She had been sipping it throughout their conversation, and it was already almost gone. What would Theoric think of her, drinking this much so early? Was there any chance he would call off the wedding? She looked at him as his eyes scanned the names carved into the ale pipes, probably deciding which to order next. He was far too attractive – all chiselled and golden-skinned – and it worried her that their conversation didn’t always flow easily. Sooner or later she was sure he would realise his mistake in choosing her. Maybe he _would_ call off the wedding?

_Don’t be so paranoid, Sigyn_ , she thought to herself. _Don’t question a good thing._

 

-xxx-

 

It was late at night when Loki noticed that the sounds of the other prisoners and the pacing guards had ceased. He looked out of the cell, not bothering to stand up from his semi-comfortable position in bed, and saw that the guards still paced and his neighbour still muttered, but they were absolutely silent. It seemed his visitor possessed powerful magic. He waited, and sure enough within a minute she revealed herself.

Amora materialised as she passed through the barrier into his cell. He hadn’t seen her in a long time, but she hadn’t changed. She hadn’t aged a minute and her flawless face still held the same haughtily seductive expression. He nearly rolled his eyes at her ridiculous outfit – the same revealing green as always, her bodice barely covering her opulent breasts and her skin-tight stiletto boots providing the illusion that her legs went on forever. She smirked down at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You have got yourself into a rather sticky situation, Loki.”

“Your powers of observation never fail to astound me.”

She tutted. “Sarcasm will not be required tonight. I did not come here to gloat, so you need not be so defensive.”

He pushed the thin sheet from his legs and moved to sit in a more appropriate position for conversation.

“Then why have you come here? Don’t hesitate. Feel free to take a seat,” he said, indicating the chair in the corner. She picked it up and moved it closer to the bed. She sat.

“I have come because I have devised a way to set you free.”

Loki tried to hide his reaction to this news, but he was certain his eyes widened at least slightly. Hopefully she didn’t notice.

“Ah, you like the sound of that, do you?”

Ok, so she might have noticed.

“Of course. It saves me from having to formulate my own plan.”

She let out a bark of laughter. “Because there are _so_ many ways to escape from the palace cells.”

That was a truth he certainly didn’t want to acknowledge, so he avoided the topic. “So tell me – what is your plan?”

“The girl who visits you – the academic. She will release you.”

Amora stopped as if that alone was supposed to impress him.

“Care to elaborate?”

The toothy grin that spread across her mouth had him instantly worried.

“She will release you because she will be in love with you.”

It was Loki’s turn to laugh.

“Oh please, Amora, tell me you are not serious? How exactly do you plan to achieve that? Surely not with a love potion? It would be traced back to you in an instant, and need I remind you of their notorious unreliability?”

“You underestimate me,” she said, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes now shone with self-admiration. “You know that the Vanir dream the future, yes?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you also know that the gift does not manifest itself until late in youth?”

“Yes, Amora. Please get to the point.”

“I will plant false dreams in the girl’s mind. She is likely too young to know what visions feel like, and will not know that they are fabrications. The seed will be planted in her mind – a conviction that her future is with you. Provided you encourage her budding attraction and growing uncertainty, I am certain that you will able to convince her to free you. I have been watching her. She is naïve and foolish, and lacks respect for authority. The small obstacle that the law presents will not dissuade her, and once you are free you can leave her here – or take her, if you wish. I don’t care.”

He considered her words. The plan seemed plausible. He did wonder how Amora would craft dreams powerful enough to make a young woman fall in love with a man like him, but he would not question her. She had a way with such things. He was certainly capable of playing along, provided that Amora upheld her promises, and it would actually give him something to do other than sit and endure his imprisonment.

“What do you want from me in return?”

Amora looked hurt. “Why do you assume I want something? Isn’t it possible that all I want is your continued friendship?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Fine,” Amora said. “There is something I want on Midgard, but it is going to take two sorcerers to get it. You are the obvious choice. Besides, I don’t like to see you in here. I prefer for you to be free and indebted to me – you’re far more useful that way.”

Loki nodded. He was sure she was lying to him, but he could worry about that later.

“And when will you be putting this plan in motion?”

“I already have.”


	3. Chapter 3

The first dream was not shocking. It was twisted and strange, but Sigyn put it down to stress rather than anything unusual. It was the night of the day after her first meeting with Loki – she had been quite perturbed by the second prince, and anxiety over her next session with him had shaken her more than she liked to admit. The dream, she was certain, was a symptom of that.

It was a hazy dream, and the details were hard to remember. She had seen Loki smiling at her from a distance, waiting for her to approach. “Sigyn!” he called, and she drew nearer. As his face came into sharper focus, she saw that the smile was warm and affectionate. With that dual awareness that is unique to dreams, the dream-Sigyn noted it with a rush of pleasure and Sigyn the dreamer noted it with confusion. She had never seen that smile on his face, nor anything like it. In fact, she had never seen an expression like it on anyone.

When she began to feel like his smile was on the cusp of making sense, the scene changed. She saw a young boy, barely old enough to speak, running through the palace gardens. He had black hair. He tripped over something Sigyn did not see, and when he fell to the ground he turned to look at her, tears in his eyes. She felt an overwhelming desire to fold him into an embrace, as though he were her own child.

She saw flashes of other images, all hazy and impossible to recall. When she awoke, what she remembered more than anything was Loki’s face, open and happy. He had looked utterly unlike the man she met in the cell, but she supposed that was the beauty of dreams. They came from the imagination, not from reality.

The second dream came after her third meeting with Loki. Overall, the meetings had been going fairly badly. He seemed to resent her presence with quite a passion, and barely ever shared information without accompanying it with an insult or some kind of declaration of superiority. Still, she felt that there was hope. It was becoming more and more evident that he was hiding some great emotional burden, and she was confident that eventually she would get through to him. It was to this hope that she attributed the more personal nature of the dream.

In it, she was standing with Loki in a luxuriously decorated room she did not recognise. She felt herself step towards him and his arms wound themselves around her. She placed her head against his chest and breathed contentedly. She felt his hand on her head, stroking it gently. It felt comfortable. Right. The scene changed and she saw her wedding – but there was something wrong. It was not Theoric who stood beside her, drinking from the wedding cup. It was Loki.

She had awoken with his eyes still burning in her mind, but she still managed to dismiss the dream as the result of her emotional investment in her work.

It was after the third dream that she began to suspect something was amiss.

The dream was very much like the others – Loki smiling at her, holding her, the little boy in the garden – but everything seemed so much sharper and more defined. When she woke up, it didn’t feel so much like the memory of a dream, but the memory of a real event. It was strange and impossible to describe. She only knew that these were not dreams.

These were visions.

 

-xxx-

 

Loki was bored beyond belief. He did absolutely nothing all day. Whether or not he was already mad, he certainly would be by the time he escaped. Frigga had brought him books, but he didn’t feel inclined to read them. It just felt wrong. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life sitting in a cell reading, and though he was sure he would be escaping before long, reading the books felt like giving in. He soon found himself looking forward to his meetings with Sigyn not because he particularly wanted to see her, but because she alleviated his oppressive boredom.

In the first few sessions after Amora’s visit, Loki decided to remain closed off. Sigyn would probably have been suspicious if he changed too quickly, and if she were not, his mother definitely would be. He waited until the fifth session before he stopped insulting her, and the seventh before he allowed himself to feign a mild fondness. Part of him insisted that it was too soon to start warming to her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He could see a distinct change in her demeanour after the first few meetings. She looked at him with a different kind of curiosity, and, although she remained professional, there was a subtle coquettishness about her eyes, her movements and the way she spoke.

He wouldn’t lie to himself – he quite enjoyed her attention. As irritating as he found her prying, she kept him entertained, and she _was_ attractive. The unblemished tan of her classically Vanir skin was a pleasing contrast to the stark white of his surroundings and her straight black hair, though often tied up and neglected, was a colour rarely seen in Asgard – inkier than his or Sif’s to the point of being almost blue. She wasn’t beautiful, not compared to the women he used to meet as a prince, but she was remarkably endearing and her youthful energy provided him a refreshing change of pace.

It didn’t help that it had been quite a long time since he’d been with a woman, and this one was clearly interested. At times he had to remind himself that she was acting under the influence of Amora. Though he would commit many crimes without a shadow of remorse, taking a young woman in such a way was not one of them. Not that there was any chance of that in the dungeons anyway. Not with the guards and the other prisoners watching.

It was during the twelfth session, on the fourth week of their acquaintance, that, despite thinking it was perhaps a bit too early, Loki invited Sigyn into the cell.

“Good morning, Loki,” she said as she stepped into view.

“Good morning,” he replied. He was going for moody-but-polite today. He wanted to find out more about her, and if she thought he was unhappy, it might draw her in.

“Is everything ok?”

He paused before answering. “Yes.”

He didn’t look at her even though he wanted to gauge her expression. He could see her in his vision’s periphery, though, and noted that she shifted her weight and moved closer to the cell.

“Everything is fine,” he said. Now he looked up, feigning a strained smile. “You are always so uncomfortable out there. Please sit down.”

He gestured towards the chair in the corner and he she took a step forward before faltering, unsure.

“I don’t know if–”

“Sigyn,” he said, infusing his voice with injury. “You think I will hurt you? In all these four weeks, have I threatened you?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Oh.” His expression was one of mock embarrassment. “And if I promise not to do so again?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t appreciate your patronising tone,” she said, “and I’m not certain your promises would hold up in court, but I will trust you.”

As she passed through the barrier her hair and clothes were unruffled, but it was like he was watching her pass through the surface of a lake. The light rushed over her skin and across her closed eyelids like water, sending ripples across the barrier as she went.

She approached the chair, and, like Amora, moved it closer to the bed. Closer than Amora had been, though only slightly.

“Tell me, Sigyn, what exactly have you studied at the Academy?”

She looked surprised.

“I wasn’t expecting you to start asking me questions.”

“I apologise if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” she offered a lop-sided smile. “That’s all right. I’m flattered by your interest.”

Her smile pleased him, and he felt his lips quirk upwards in response. Involuntary smiling. He would have to keep an eye on that.

She took a deep breath and appeared to be thinking. “Well, I studied the standard areas, of course: history, magic, philosophy, literature, arithmetic, and so on. The Academy does not change often, so I imagine you studied the same things when you were there.”

“Indeed, I did. Which additional courses did you choose?”

“Literature of the insane, magical healing, quantum interactions of magic and… and alchemy.”

Loki could not help but laugh – not because he thought her study of alchemy was ridiculous, but because she looked so embarrassed by the admission of it. He thought he knew why.

“Is it still taught by Professor Hælgason?” Loki asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“The Academy’s most useless quack. I don’t know why they insist on keeping him.”

Sigyn nodded in agreement before continuing. “I stayed at the Academy, though, as you may have gathered. Not just to make up for the time wasted studying under the son of Hælgi, thankfully. I studied magic as a physical phenomenon for a while and it lead me to the study of mental illnesses, which has formed the basis of my research since. What about you? Which options did you choose?”

His face darkened minutely. “I wanted to take further courses in sorcery. I cannot remember now specifically which ones – it was a long time ago. Odin said that it would not be fitting for a Prince of Asgard to focus so fully on magic.”

“So what did you decide?”

“I took strategy of war, diplomacy, political history of the nine realms and magical healing. Although they were not my first choices, I will admit they have proven useful. I have never had much of an interest in healing, though the basics learnt in that course have saved many lives.”

“Oh,” Sigyn looked almost disappointed. What had she been expecting? “That is a surprise coming from such a skilled sorcerer.”

“I studied much in my spare time, and have experienced occasional bouts of obsession. Most of my knowledge comes from experience in the practical application of magic. I did publish some works in my youth, but I doubt they still circulate.”

“They do,” she nodded, and a small smile on her lips. “I encountered them during my own studies. Some of the Professors still speak of you, and when Asgard thought you dead, your work benefitted from a resurgence in popularity.”

This was news! Why had no one informed him? He was surprised that anyone would still want to read most of what he had written. A great deal of it was nonsense. Although, he noted with bitterness, it was unlikely any of his texts were being read now. They would forever be condemned as the ravings of a madman, and any who dared to suggest otherwise would be accused of supporting a traitor.

He steered the conversation away from himself.

“Do you practice much magic, Sigyn?”

“Yes and no. I have studied it, but I do not much enjoy using it. I use some, though, out of necessity.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What does that mean? Out of necessity?”

“I use it frequently in my research, but it doesn’t appeal to me,” she said.

He felt more disappointed by that statement than he would like to admit.

“You don’t like magic,” he said, feeling himself drawing away from her.

“No, I do,” she said, almost as if she too could feel him retreating. “I find it quite fascinating to watch, actually. I just don’t enjoy practicing it myself.”

He considered her words for a moment.

“Would you like me to show you something? Something I have found very useful?” he asked as a mischievous smile crept onto his face.

Sigyn looked apprehensive, but she nodded. “Ok. What sort of something?”

He cast an illusion behind her and threw himself into it.

“This sort,” he said from his new position on the other side of the cell.

Sigyn nearly leapt out of her chair as she turned, startled, to look at him. He laughed as her jaw fell open and she turned back to the image of him on the edge of the bed. It faded away and she turned back to him.

“That is amazing!” she exclaimed. “How does that work? What did you do?”

He grinned, trying not to look too smug in case it ruined the moment he had worked to construct. “I can show you,” he said. “Stand up.”

She stood and walked over to him.

“Have you cast any illusions before?”

“Yes,” she said. “But only simple ones – diagrams and things to assist with research.”

“Then it may take some time for you to cast a double of yourself. Let me help you.”

He moved to stand behind her, but she turned around, wary of taking her eyes off him. He was almost hurt.

“Sigyn, I will not harm you. We are surrounded by guards.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I am trying to trust you.”

“I know,” he said as she allowed him to stand behind her. She was wise to be cautious. “Now don’t be afraid.”

He took her hands, lifting them up in front of her, and her back pressed against his chest. He felt his temperature rise at the contact and told himself that it was part of his deception and nothing more.

“Pay close attention,” he said. He concentrated, pushing his magic through her and out from her fingertips to form a duplicate Sigyn standing opposite them.

“Remarkable,” she whispered.

“Beautiful,” he corrected, amused when she turned her head to try to glance at him. Before she was able to respond, he continued: “if you concentrate very intensely, you may be able to feel the link between yourself and the illusion. Can you feel it?”

“No,” Sigyn said.

“Keep trying.”

“I can’t feel anything.”

“You must keep trying.”

“Oh! – I think I can feel it now.”

Loki smiled, and then was annoyed when he realised she couldn’t see him and he had just smiled again for no reason.

“You should be able to throw yourself into it. It is difficult to explain how.”

She shifted so that she could look at his face, and when she did he became acutely aware of how little distance was between them. “Could you show me?”

He buried his discomfort and nodded, nudging her back to face her double.

“This might not help you learn, because I have to let go of you and you may not feel my magic.”

He concentrated, feeling for the link with the illusion. When his grip was secure, he let go of Sigyn and threw himself into the double. He watched his own image fade from behind her as she turned to look at it. When she turned back she laughed.

“That’s astounding!” she laughed. “And more than a little disconcerting. Stop wearing my face.”

He let the illusion shimmer and fade, grinning at her with his own features again.

“Where did you learn that?” Sigyn asked as he made his way back to the edge of his bed.

“Frigga taught me to cast illusions as a child,” he said. “I became so adept at it through practice. This specific skill I came across by accident.”

He remembered the moment. He had been trapped in Sif’s wardrobe as an adolescent following a very ill-advised dare from Thor. To prevent himself from being discovered, he had cast an illusion of himself in the room beyond to distract her, and had wished so desperately to switch places with his illusion that it had happened. His astonishment had been so great that he told Sif what he had done and was nearly thrown from her balcony in response.

“You seem very close to her,” Sigyn said, and it took Loki a moment to realise that she meant Frigga, not Sif. “Why do you not call her ‘mother’?”

Loki’s eyes darted to the floor. It had been going so well. Why did she have to ruin it with her questions?

“I’d rather not discuss it,” he said, knowing that it wouldn’t deter her.

“I’d like to,” she said. Irritation flared in his chest at the pathetic look she was giving him. He didn’t need or want her sympathy. Sigyn continued: “your family is worried about you – particularly your mother. I feel it is something we must deal with.”

“She’s not my mother,” he said, his voice close to a whisper.

“You don’t mean that,” she said. “You might mean it when you say Odin is not your father, but you love Frigga. That much is obvious.”

He didn’t like how she assumed she understood him. He considered distracting her with another trick or frightening her away by being cruel, but he supposed if he wanted to keep up his deception he would have to give her something to work with. Something small, at least, to shut her up.

“I wish she were my mother. She’s the only being alive who still cares for me. But she isn’t. She told you that, didn’t she? She told you where they found me, abandoned and left to die.”

“She did tell me,” Sigyn nodded, “but she described it differently. She said that it was like a miracle – finding a baby alive in that desolate place. A baby that had survived the final throws of a war that savage.”

Loki looked back up into Sigyn’s face, her words forming a knot in his stomach.

“She said that when Odin found you,” she continued, “you reached out to him. You had ignored the other soldiers as though he were the only one there. When he picked you up, you shifted your form.”

“ _I_ shifted my form?” he blinked. “No, I couldn’t have. That’s not– I have no control over it.”

Sigyn’s brow creased. “That is what the Queen told me. Perhaps you should speak with her if you doubt it.”

“I would prefer not to discuss this at all. I’m not going to bring it up a second time with her.”

“Suit yourself. The point I am making is that you seem to look upon your adoption as evidence that you were forsaken as an infant, while your family remembers it with gladness. They chose you – they plucked you from the battlefield and gave you their love. Your mother–”

Loki fought to control the flare of rage that grew as she spoke. “Do you know what Odin said to me when I was dragged back to Asgard in chains?”

“No, I–”

“He told me that my only birthright was to die, and that Frigga is the only reason I was not immediately executed.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened at this, and he felt a rush of satisfaction at having shocked her.

“Loki, I–“ she faltered and he caught a glimpse of suspicion in her eyes. The one time he had told her an almost word-for-word truth and she suspected him of lying. She recovered her composure quickly. “Then my point still stands. A mother who stands up to a king to defend her son’s life is more than worthy of that son’s devotion. You wound her when you say she is not your mother.”

Loki was silent, his rage seeping away. He told himself that the tightening in his chest was yet another part of his act. That Sigyn didn’t know he felt it was irrelevant.

 

-xxx-

 

When Frigga visited him he was sitting on the floor by the front of his cell, his back against one of the pillars that comprised the room’s corners. He supposed he should have stood when she entered, but he was too lethargic from lack of occupation to summon the energy to move. She stood in the centre of the room, golden and lovely as ever, but with that sadness in her eyes that he had grown to dread.

“You seem to be getting on well with Sigyn,” she said. “The guards tell me you have been teaching her magic.”

“I taught her some. I have access to little of my magic in here,” he said, his eyes on his hands. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, despite his loneliness.

“She speaks well of you when she comes to see me. She says she is surprised by how readily you have accepted her presence, and I must say it pleases me that the two of you are growing more comfortable with each other.”

He looked at her sharply. “You speak as though I have made a friend. Mother, I am trapped in a cell with no one but criminals and silent Einherjar for company. Obviously I am going to speak to the pretty young woman you send to me.”

Frigga looked hurt, but it didn’t carry to her voice. “Pretty? She’s clever too, of course, but you know that.”

Loki looked out of the cell again and pondered briefly how long he’d have to stare at the nearest guard before he felt compelled to make eye contact.

“She told me today that it is not Odin’s magic that maintains my Aesir appearance. Is that true?”

He didn’t look at Frigga. It was actually easier for him to detect a lie in a person’s voice than in their face.

A few moments passed before she answered. “You shifted your own form, Loki. As a baby you had the tendency to shift into the form of whatever creature offered you protection, and not through illusion. Your form changes to its very core – a true shapeshifter. As you grew older you seemed to forget you had the ability. We never told you because we feared if you began to experiment you would discover the truth.”

Loki was frozen in place, allowing his myriad emotions to compete for dominance.

“A Jotun and a shapeshifter,” he eventually responded. “How many more secrets do you keep from me?

In his periphery, he saw Frigga take a step forward.

“Few, my son,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “None of significance. One day I hope to discuss them with you, but you must get better first. I cannot bear to see you in this cell.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Release me then! If it bothers you so much, release me! You are the Queen.”

“I am bound to serve this realm, son,” she said. “You must endure your punishment. I only hope to make it temporary. Your trial is coming, whether you choose to care or not. For me, if not for yourself, allow Sigyn to help you. Please, Loki.”

He did not respond. He stared at his hands in silence until he felt Frigga’s presence dissolve, and he pretended the room didn’t feel colder after she’d gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! This is the longest chapter in the story an was very fun to write. Enjoy!

“Sigyn!” Theoric called, dashing down the palace steps.

It was late afternoon and Sigyn was leaving after an unexpectedly successful meeting with Loki. She hadn’t expected him to be so open on the topic of his mother, and she planned to return to it next time she saw him. She waited at the bottom of the steps for Theoric to catch her up.

“Hey,” she smiled, surprised to find she wasn’t pleased to see him.

He leaned down to peck her cheek. “I’m glad to have come across you. It feels as though it has been a century since we last spoke.”

It had been three days.

He continued, unperterbed by her lack of enthusiasm, as they began to walk. “You look well. How has your day been?”

“Tiring,” she replied, “but I think I may be getting through to him.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Theoric said, putting an arm around her shoulder in congratulation. “How much longer do you think you will need with him?”

She broke away from him as they crossed a canal and rested her arms against the pale stone balustrade, looking across the water. He stood by her side, gazing fondly at her face.

“I’m not certain,” she said, “but I have been invited to visit him indefinitely. I think I would like to continue until the Queen no longer wants my help – or, if Loki is free to make his own decisions by then, until he wishes me to leave.”

Theoric’s fond gaze turned to confusion. “I thought you found him frightening and unpleasant.”

“I did. I no longer do.” She laughed and smiled at him sheepishly. “Believe it or not, now that he has warmed to me I actually enjoy his company. He does have a certain charm.”

Theoric frowned and looked away from her, his eyes tracing the canal back to the palace. “I am not entirely comfortable with this, Sigyn. I would not presume to control your actions, but he is dangerous.”

She put a hand reassuringly on Theoric’s forearm. “He sometimes may be dangerous, but I assure you I have not done anything rash. Guards are present through all of my visits, and he hasn’t seemed inclined to hurt me for some time.”

His head snapped back to look at her with wide eyes. “For some time? He has threatened you in the past?”

“Theoric,” Sigyn said, “Would you like to know what I did with him today?”

He nodded weakly, apprehensive.

Sigyn spoke: “He asked me about my studies and I asked him about his. We briefly spoke of magic and he taught me one of his tricks – a completely harmless one, so you needn’t look so horrified. Then we spoke of his mother and he confided in me some of the issues he has been having with his family. There was no aggression directed towards me at all.”

She was careful to leave out the part about her entering his cell. And about his less-than-subtle flirting. It wasn’t generally necessary to press someone against your chest to teach them magic.

Theoric studied her face for a moment before smiling. His arm returned to her shoulder. “If that is all, I concede that I am comforted. Although I will hear no more about Loki’s ‘charm’, understood? You must remember what he is.”

“What he is?”

“A murderer, Sigyn. A mass murderer.”

She looked at her hands.

“I find it difficult to remember that sometimes,” she said. “Thor told me on my first day to stay alert; that his brother would not hesitate to manipulate me. Perhaps I am not vigilant enough.” She thought of her visions, which had been becoming more vivid each day, and more _explicit_. When she looked at Theoric she remembered the shock of feeling she had felt racing down her arms and through her abdomen when Loki had taken her hands, and her thoughts were stained with guilt.

“I have faith in you, Sigyn,” Theoric said, cupping her cheek in his palm. “If you remain cautious the House of Odin will be forever in your debt.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“Theoric–“

She was interrupted when he pressed his lips against hers.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise but she did not pull away. Theoric made no move to deepen the kiss and after a few moments he drew back, a smile on his face.

“I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight,” he said. “My mother would like to meet you.”

“Oh, uh…” Sigyn had still not recovered from the unexpected kiss and was momentarily flustered. “I’m not very hungry, to be honest. I don’t think I will be. But I would be happy to meet your mother for perhaps a drink, or…”

“That would be wonderful,” Theoric said, his expression positively glowing.

He took her arm in his and led her through the streets.

Sigyn’s mind dwelt on the kiss.

 

-xxx-

 

_Soft lips against soft lips._

_Shapely breasts against a hard chest._

_Their hands roved across burning skin, tearing away any clothing that still remained and casting it carelessly aside. They desperately drank in each other’s scent, tasted each other’s desire, but it was not enough – their kisses did nothing to sate the hunger that propelled them._

_There was a bed in this unfamiliar room. A bed with black sheets and luxurious pillows. He pressed forward, and she stepped back, allowing him to guide her. When the backs of her legs came into contact with the foot of the bed, he leant down to suck ravenously at her neck, and she moaned, dragging her nails across his back. When he pulled away, green eyes met brown and a provocative smile spread across her face._

_She lifted her legs onto the bed and moved away from him, falling back onto the pillows and arranging her naked body into a pose that made him shudder with anticipation. In a moment he was on her, his lips kissing her breasts, her stomach, inside her hips and between her legs. Her moans, whines and mewls fuelled him; he had never found her so irresistible._

_When he moved once again to her neck, she seized his head and drew him into a lustful kiss. She wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him closer, grinding their hips together. It was his turn to moan._

 

-xxx-

 

Loki awoke as he came, involuntarily spilling from his lips a sound that was somewhere between pleasure and surprise. He lay still in his cold bed until his breathing and the pumping of his heart returned to a normal rate.

“You all right over there, Odinson?” the son of Nasi called from several cells down the corridor. There was mockery in his voice.

Loki flushed slightly at the thought that the other prisoners had overheard him, and wondered whether he had made any noises in his sleep.

“Dreaming of your Vanir whore?” that vile creature continued, and this time Loki responded.

“Hold your tongue, bigot.”

Thankfully, he did. Loki did not want to argue with him right now.

He felt uncomfortable in more ways than one. Firstly, he felt very unclean, for obvious reasons, but would receive no change of clothes until the morning. His cold sheets were damp with sweat and tangled around his limbs, so he would have to remake his bed before he could fall asleep again. If he fell asleep again – his deepest discomfort was not external, but internal, and he doubted his mind would rest for quite a while.

He had not had a dream like that in many years – perhaps more than a century. He supposed that he was lonelier and more frustrated than he realised, and being trapped in this ridiculous cell with only Sigyn for a visitor had made him fixate on her. It didn’t help that he had been deprived of all female company since falling into the void. If the Chitauri had sexes, which he honestly didn’t know, there was no way he would have acknowledged any of the creatures as women, let alone seek warmth in their arms. There had been some very beautiful women when he was brought to Thanos, but they had looked upon his starved and battered form with disgust, and he was quickly removed from their presence. He had not allowed himself to think of any of the Midgardians that way – to concede their attractiveness would have been to admit they were more than insects, which he could not afford to do. Sigyn, though, with her bright eyes and her lilting Vanir accent, was certainly a woman, and he could not help but think of her as such.

Then why did he feel that it was wrong?

He knew there was something wrong from the moment he saw her. From the moment he heard her voice and knew where she was from. From the moment he hesitated when Amora revealed her plan. From the moment he touched her hands and felt a thrill of desire. She was too young, too innocent. He did not want her, yet he did – desperately – and he could have her. He could have her so easily.

Perhaps, he thought, when she released him, he could seduce her before he left. Yes, Amora had tampered with her mind, but they were only dreams. Dreams alone could not make someone fall in love. If she wanted him too, there was nothing wrong. There was no need to feel ashamed of desire.

No.

Something in him rejected that idea. What was it? Was he being manipulated, too? But surely he would have felt the presence of unfamiliar magic? Besides, magic was suppressed in this cell – not enough to prevent him from casting illusions, but certainly enough to prevent the kind of magic Amora would need to play with his mind. There was no way that she had planted his dream.

The memory of the dream suddenly floated back to him and he felt his body react. Did she really look like that unclothed?

Enough. He needed to think of something else.

Were Sigyn’s dreams like that?

He shook his head as though the movement could scatter his thoughts. This was why he needed to get out of this damned cell.

 

-xxx-

 

“I have brought you new reading materials,” Sigyn said, stepping easily through the barrier. It was now ten weeks, or forty visits, since they met, and it had become normal for her to sit inside the cell. She offered him a packet of papers before going to move the chair.

She watched him examine the papers as she sat down. They were academic, concerned with a variety of subjects: bifrost mechanics, magical biology, Vanir poetry… the last essay in the bundle was written by Sigyn herself and pertained to magichemical medicine. She hoped he would enjoy it.

“Even though you haven’t touched the books Frigga gave you, I thought you might be interested in reading some of the things we have been discussing. I am hopeful that I may be allowed to provide more next week.”

“Thank you,” he said, and sounded surprised. She smiled to herself. “Have you heard anything on the question of the magic damping?”

She shook her head. “The Allfather refused outright. He said that your magic was too strong for you to be allowed any more access to it. Sadly, you will still be restricted to illusions, but on a happier note, it’s because the Allfather thinks you are too powerful. That’s certainly a compliment.”

He scowled, clearly unimpressed with her reasoning.

“Loki, I am sorry, I tried very hard.”

“It is no fault of yours,” he said, his eyes on the papers she had handed him.

Sigyn leaned forward to squeeze his hand and he flinched, looking up in surprise. She realised that she probably shouldn’t have touched him, but decided it would be worse to immediately pull away, so she allowed her hand to rest on his for a few moments. “What would you like to discuss today?” she asked.

“I will leave that to your discretion.”

He stood to place the papers on a small table.

“I would like to hear something about your childhood,” Sigyn said.

He raised an eyebrow, lingering by the table. “That is vague. What would you like to hear?”

“A story, a memory – I don’t mind. Perhaps you could tell me about a friend of yours. You have mentioned Thor’s friends several times and I would like to hear about yours.”

Loki’s face darkened and he folded his arms. “I didn’t have any friends.”

“Oh please, you expect me to believe you had no friends at all?” She looked at him expectantly.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I had no friends of my own.”

“Truly?”

“No. The only friends I had were Thor’s, and they never warmed to me the way he believed they had.”

Sigyn frowned and shifted her chair closer to him. He was too far away now that he had moved from the bed’s edge.

“Please elaborate. In what way did they fail to warm to you?”

He shook his head and laughed sharply. “There were times when I thought I held their affection, but any time that affection was tested it became abundantly clear that I had never held it at all.”

Sigyn waited until it she knew he wasn’t going to continue before speaking.

“Could you give me an example?” she tried to prod as gently as possible.

He looked as though he were about to respond, but his eyes quickly fell to his hands and he remained silent. His brow creased as, she could only presume, he fought with himself over what to share.

She decided to alleviate some of his struggle. “Fandral seems to speak fondly of you.” He looked up at her, frowning, and she added: “He speaks fondly of the you from earlier days.”

Loki considered her words for a moment.

“I’ve known Fandral since I was a very small child. We got along reasonably well when we weren’t competing for Thor’s attention, but a disagreement in adolescence put an end to that.”

“What was the disagreement?”

“I bedded his sister.”

“Oh. Well I can see why that might have caused some tension,” Sigyn said, wondering whether or not to pursue the topic. Loki hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic about her line of questioning until the ‘disagreement’ came up and his expression grew impish. “Can you tell me a story that doesn’t involve any disagreements?”

“Probably not.”

“Can you try?”

There was silence as he thought.

“Would you like to hear the story of Rannvieg?”

Sigyn’s eyes widened and she glanced down the row of cells looking for the frightening woman. Thankfully, the elf was looking another way, probably staring at one of the guards.

“You don’t think she would mind?” Sigyn asked, though curiosity was burning a hole through her chest.

Loki gave a short laugh. “If she did do you think it would make any difference? Honestly, though, she doesn’t seem to care for anything. She will not be listening.”

“Then yes! Of course I would like to hear it.”

“Then listen well,” Loki said. He returned to the bed and sat down on its edge, leaning slightly forward and holding Sigyn in a steady gaze. When he spoke it was in the tone of a classic Aesir storyteller – it was clear he had told in his fair share of tales in the taverns. “It was on the eve of Volstagg’s birthday that Rannvieg claimed her first Asgardian victim. The warriors three, Sif and Thor were at Lady Ambjorg’s tavern to celebrate – I was also there, hoping that enough mead would render the occasion more agreeable. The tavern was crowded with warriors and peasants, some there to congratulate Volstagg, but most to complete their daily ritual of drinking themselves into a stupor.”

Sigyn laughed. “I know that setting well. I live above a popular tavern.”

“You do? How do you ever sleep?”

“Usually I don’t,” she said, good-humouredly but with more than a hint of bitterness. “Please continue with the story.”

He did: “It was nearly three hours after midnight that a young woman hurled herself through the doors and screamed. I never have, before or since, witnessed such an immediate silence fall upon a tavern – such was the depth of horror conveyed in the sound she made. Thor went to her and after some time struggling with her fearfulness, he convinced her to lead us to the cause of her distress. She had discovered the first body in an alley beside the tavern; if something so thoroughly mangled could be called a body.”

Sigyn shuddered but remained silent. Loki looked amused.

“Are you certain you would like me to continue?”

She nodded, glancing towards the woman’s cell and discovering, again, that her attention was elsewhere.

“The rest of that evening passed slowly. The tavern was emptied, the Einherjar called to deal with the corpse, and the young woman brought to the palace to spare her the distress of being alone that night. Investigations were conducted, but no perpetrator was discovered. Many believed the crime to have been committed by a wild animal, but there was no indication of such a beast in the city.

“After the second victim, and the third, Thor vowed retribution. He determined that who- or whatever had committed these acts would be subject to the personal vengeance of the son of Odin, and naturally that his friends and his long-suffering brother were to be his assistants in this ridiculous task.

“We searched for weeks – we spoke to witnesses, we spoke to citizens, we – well, _I_ – searched through books for similar cases and possible ritual associations, we combed the realm and even began to look through others. There were eleven victims by the time we had any indication of who may have been the perpetrator, and in the end it was not our searching that revealed her to us. I saw her on the outskirts of the city, tearing apart the body of a child. She fled when I ran to stop her, but it was too late to save the child. She saw me more clearly than I saw her, but I knew what we were searching for. A tall Álfar woman, lean figure, uneven movements.

“I thought she would attack again in the city, so I stalked the streets in search of her. It did not take long – as it happened she was searching for me too. She stabbed me with my own dagger, and I’m certain she would have liked me to be her twelfth victim, but Sif was nearby and prevented her. She was chased through the streets of Asgard for nearly an hour before she was captured. Rannvieg is possessed of unnatural strength, equal to twice an Aesir. I suspect that without it she would have been unable to hunt them as she did, though there is no doubt the urge in her to kill and mutilate is a deep and immovable fault. She would always have committed these crimes – just perhaps not in Asgard.”

Sigyn was astonished. “She tried to kill you?”

“She would happily kill us all,” Loki laughed, his tone at extreme odds with his words.

“Yes, but she actually _stabbed_ you. Were you all right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I am here, aren’t I?”

“Weren’t you affected at all?”

Some of the mirth drained from Loki’s expression. “Of course I was. I have always remembered her eyes, yellow and sickly, and the ecstasy they expressed as she licked my blood from the blade. At that age I knew little of what terrors lay beyond the golden limits of Asgard and those eyes haunted my nightmares for years. Now I have looked upon the face of true evil and she no longer frightens me.”

The end of this speech was delivered to someone over Sigyn’s shoulders, and she turned to see Rannvieg staring through the several cells that separated them, the same eyes Loki described fixed on him with an icy intensity. Sigyn quickly looked away, remembering one of the details he had brushed over in his story as he rose and drifted across the cell in Rannvieg’s direction.

“Sif saved your life,” she said, and Loki frowned at her as though she’d broken a chain of thought. “You said that when Rannvieg came for you, you survived because Sif chased her away.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Loki replied.

“She must have had some regard for you to save your life.”

Loki shook his head. “Sif would save her worst enemy’s life if presented with the opportunity. She is honourable to her very core. Preventing Rannvieg from gutting me had nothing to do with regard.”

“I disagree. I’ve spoken to her recently and she seems to dislike you more forcefully than some of the others.”

“She forcefully dislikes me? And this is your way to convince me that she once held me in high regard?”

“I didn’t say high regard,” Sigyn countered. She rose from her chair and went to stand beside him. He looked almost startled at her sudden closeness, but he didn’t move away. Sigyn felt that standing afforded her a higher ground from which address him than sitting down, even if he still towered above her. “I mean that dislike of that nature often begins as fondness. If she had been indifferent to you, she would not be so angry with you now.”

“You should not speak of things you do not understand,” Loki said. His eyes were on his hands. “Sif has disliked me for centuries. In fact, I do not remember a single moment in which that was not the case. What you detect is the transition from dislike to hatred.”

 

-xxx-

 

It was obvious to Sigyn that Loki had shared the story of Rannvieg to distract her from the questions she’d been asking. It hadn’t worked, of course, and she’d manoeuvred the conversation back to Sif at the end, but she hadn’t wanted to prod too hard. As she made her way through the palace corridors after their meeting, she pondered how she could approach the topic next time.

He really believed he’d had no friends. She found that very difficult to believe. He may have been unusual growing up, and the palace could be an isolating place, but he was still a prince and there was generally no lack of people wanting to befriend royalty. What about the time he had spent at the Academy? Surely there, in a less formal environment, he had found someone to be close to.

She had just decided to seek out someone to ask when she turned a corner and saw Sif, sweating and dishevelled, coming towards her down the corridor.

“Lady Sif!” she called, adjusting her trajectory towards the other woman.

Sif stopped with a sigh, clearly not keen on having a conversation but not about to be rude.

“Sigyn. What may I do for you?”

Sigyn was momentarily thrown that she knew her name. “I– Er– I have some questions I would like to ask you about Loki.” She hesitated. “Have you been training? Is this not an ideal time?”

Sif nodded. “I have been training, but I can speak with you if it will be brief.”

“Brief! Yes. Absolutely,” Sigyn beamed, thinking about where they could go. Not far off was an alcove – one of many in the palace designed for private conversation. She gestured towards it. “Would you like to take a seat?”

They made themselves comfortable in the alcove and Sigyn suddenly felt the pressure of speaking with Sif one-on-one. She had admired her from afar for years, always too nervous to speak to her without good reason. When they had spoken before, it had been with Thor and the Warriors Three present, and the Queen had organised it. She just needed to stay professional. She couldn’t embarrass herself if she clung to her purpose.

“What would you like to know?” Sif began the conversation, open and friendly, if a little worn out from her training.

“Well,” Sigyn began, “he told me the story of Rannvieg Onämsdottir today, and about how you saved his life.”

Sif nodded. “A fearsome woman, Rannvieg. It is fortunate that we were able to capture her.”

“It is,” Sigyn agreed, suppressing a shiver at the memory of those yellow eyes. “He told me the story to distract me from asking about his past friendships, but happened to choose a story that ended with an act of friendship. The saving of a life. Did you consider Loki a friend before… all that has happened?”

Sif was silent for a long moment. “Yes and no,” she said. “I have known him a long time. We trained together as children – he, Thor, Fandral and I. He was the youngest and smallest for many years and we were not always kind to him, but his behaviour as we grew older did not always encourage kindness. I think if he had not been Thor’s brother, it is unlikely that we would have spent any time together, and though I do not wish to speak for others, I imagine the warriors three feel the same. That is not to say there was no friendship, but only that the friendship did not come easily and was frequently tested.”

Sigyn nodded her understanding. Sif’s account rang far truer than Loki’s.

“He thinks you all hated him,” she said.

“It would have been easier if he had more of his own friends. I don’t recall any when we were children, save perhaps Fandral’s sister, who occasionally accompanied her brother to the palace when he played here, but that was more camaraderie between younger siblings than any real sympathy. He had sorcerer friends as a young man, but I never met them. He grew more secretive as time went on.”

Sigyn made a mental note to ask Thor about these other friends. Frigga had not mentioned them and she was certain she would have if she’d had the information. If Loki wouldn’t tell her, Thor was the most likely to fill in the gaps.

“Thank you, Sif. It was an honour to speak with you.”

Sif smiled. “You are always welcome. Though I have no love for Loki after all he has done, I admire your commitment to trying to help him – for the Queen’s sake if not for his. I only hope it does not prove futile.”

Sigyn and Sif stood, clasped hands as a respectful farewell, and Sif departed. Sigyn stood at the arch of the alcove for a moment longer, processing her new information.

Sif had barely turned the corner and gone out of sight when Sigyn heard a voice behind her.

“Hello, Sigyn.” It was a velvety female voice, smooth and confident.

Sigyn spun around and was confronted by a voluptuous blonde, long legs folded as she lounged in the seat by the alcove’s window. She wore a well fitted, low cut green dress and had her long hair pinned up in an elaborate fashion.

Sigyn looked around as if to see where the woman had come from.

“My name is Amora,” she said, standing up and taking Sigyn’s hand. She drew her back into the alcove and sat her down very close to her, on the same bench by the window. “I overheard your conversation with Sif and thought I might be able to contribute a little to your research.”

Sigyn immediately felt uneasy. One didn’t overhear a conversation in one of Asgard’s private alcoves by accident. This Amora must have deliberately eavesdropped. The woman’s proximity, the way she looked at her through her eyelashes and the heavy perfume she wore didn’t put Sigyn any more at ease. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she was being seduced.

“Did you know Loki?” Sigyn asked, hoping Amora would get to the point quickly.

“I still do. He isn’t dead.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

Amora smiled at her, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I am Asgard’s greatest enchantress. I’m surprised an academic like yourself hasn’t heard of me.”

Suddenly something clicked in Sigyn’s brain and she remembered all the times she had read about ‘The Enchantress’ and her work, realising that it was _this_ Amora, the one she now sat uncomfortably close to, that the title referred to. Somehow she had always imagined a much older woman.

“I have heard of you. I apologise, your sudden appearance threw me off.”

Amora seemed pleased by this acknowledgement and the tension began to ease.

“What is your relationship to Loki?” Sigyn asked, eager now to hear what she had to say.

“The answer to that is rather complicated,” Amora sighed. “We met at the Academy. I helped him continue his study of magic after he was forced to drop it from his official studies. We taught each other a lot. I suppose you could call us friends, though that would be altogether too innocent a term for what we had.”

“You were– I mean, did you–”

The woman laughed, a sharp sound like a smashed glass.

“Did I sleep with him?” she asked. “Yes, a few times over the years.”

Sigyn tried not to roll her eyes. “I was going to ask if there was romance, not sex, but I suppose you have still answered my question.”

Amora’s eyes flashed. “If you are going to be prudish, I don’t advise you to delve into Loki’s past. I’m sure Frigga would not have told you, since it is not something a mother likes to discuss, but Loki was a prolific lover before his fall. In fact, before he started to take his political duties more seriously, he could scarcely go a week without bringing someone back to his rooms – and not always a woman.”

Sigyn shifted uncomfortably. “I apologise if I have offended you. It was not my intention.”

“I’m sure it was not,” Amora’s tone was still prickly. “Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes please.”

“All right,” Amora took a moment to settle herself before she proceeded. “Whatever he likes to say, Loki did have friends at the Academy. I don’t think he allowed them too close, but there were people he would study and drink with. But he likes to pity himself, so when he left the Academy, he made little effort to maintain the relationships beyond what was politically useful.”

“How much did his status affect these relationships? Was he suspicious of people’s intentions?”

“There are always many who seek the friendship of a prince, but most of them were dissuaded by his prickly manner. How well he could tell the difference between a social climber and a genuine friend I don’t know, but I don’t think he was very interested either way.”

Sigyn made a note of what Amora told her in her notebook. She was definitely bringing this up with Loki in their next meeting, if he was in a good mood.

“Could you tell me the names of some of these people he used to spend time with? I’d like to speak with them.”

Amora waved a hand and several names appeared in Sigyn’s notebook. She suppressed a flinch of surprise.

“I don’t remember them all, but those are the ones I do,” she said.

“Thank you,” Sigyn scanned the names. She didn’t know most of them, but there were one or two academics among them who she had met before. She would speak with them tomorrow when she returned to her office at the Academy.

“Did you have much contact with Loki after the Academy? Can you tell me anything about his friendships then?”

“I had some contact with him,” Amora replied. “We would meet every so often to share magical discoveries, and I have always enjoyed crashing the occasional feast. Keeping up appearances and all that. As far as I remember, he maintained good relationships with foreign dignitaries, important political allies, individuals who held important roles in the palace, but few casual friends. Perhaps none at all. There isn’t much time for leisure when you are a prince.”

“Thor managed to maintain healthy friendships,” Sigyn challenged.

“Yes,” the other woman seemed irritated by the interruption. “But Thor has only really taken an interest in his princely duties in the last year.”

And Thor has a naturally open and affable manner that makes friendships easy, Sigyn mentally added. She wasn’t being harsh to Loki – it was true. Sigyn herself had experienced difficulty making friends in the past, not always feeling comfortable in social situations, and she was by no means an unusual or exceptional case.

Amora brought them back to the topic at hand. “Loki always had an affinity with the Vanir – I’m sure you have discussed it with him. He typically spent more time socialising with visiting parties from Vanaheim than with any Aesir companions. How much have you read about the Anti-Vanir movement?”

“I’m sorry?” Sigyn was startled by this sudden change of direction.

“The Anti-Vanir movement. I know this is probably a delicate topic for you, but it is relevant to our discussion.”

Sigyn had to admit she didn’t know much about it – it had been a period of political turmoil in Asgard where some Aesir occupants of the realm took issue with the increasing number of Vanir immigrants and their growing influence in government. It had all happened over six hundred years ago, and Sigyn had been a child in Vanaheim, sheltered from the conflict happening in Yggdrasil’s higher branches. When she came to Asgard, she found the topic difficult to study, so she avoided it as much as she could.

“I know the basics,” she said, not eager to give away how little she really knew.

“Did you know Loki was married to a Vanir woman when it began?”

“What?” Sigyn exclaimed. He had been _married_? Why did no one think to tell her?

Amora chuckled. “It is rarely discussed and I would advise you to use caution if you plan to address it with him. She was poisoned by rebels. Found dead one morning in bed. They had been married for less than a year.”

“Poisoned? That is awful!” Sigyn’s hand went to her heart and she felt her pulse had quickened. “What was her name? Why is this not common knowledge?”

“Her name was Glut. Flame-haired. Exceptional seductress – even I was impressed – though they say she was chaste. Not sure if I believe that. If you were to read up on the topic, her existence is not hidden, but the House of Odin prefers to pretend none of it happened. I will guess by your shock that Frigga didn’t bother to tell you?”

“No, she didn’t,” Sigyn said.

Amora nodded. “I didn’t think she would. After it happened, Loki was a drunken mess for maybe… twenty years? I think he really loved her. Impossible to say for certain, though. He has always been a tricky character. Needless to say his interpersonal relationships were never the same again. He did play an important role in ending the conflict, however. I recommend you take a trip to the library. It is a fascinating period to study.”

“I will,” Sigyn said absently. “Thank you for telling me about this.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Amora grinned. Then, she leaned in close. “Now how about you tell me something about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated a little early because I think I might be too busy tomorrow. Enjoy!

It was mid afternoon when Sigyn knocked on the door of Hrefna's office. Her friend opened the door and grinned at the sight of her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Sigyn! I haven't seen you in a week! How are you?" she beamed, releasing the hug and stepping aside so Sigyn could enter. She closed the door behind her.

"I'm well. I've been busy. I realised it had been a while and needed to see you," Sigyn said, taking a seat. Hrefna's office was higher in the building than hers and slightly bigger, though the décor was the same. The extra space meant Hrefna could have a comfortable seated area to speak with colleagues, and Sigyn was glad of it. If they had been in her office, they would have had to sit at the desk.

"What have you been up to?" Sigyn asked.

"Well," Hrefna began, "nothing particularly notable, but…"

The friends had a long chat – informal, trivial and pleasant. Exactly what Sigyn had been craving. They talked about mutual friends, a little Academy gossip, plans for the upcoming market festival, and all kinds of things she had had no chance to think about while busy at the palace and the library, tracking down the names Amora had given her, and dealing with the emotional repercussions of her visions. It was a delight, but inevitably the conversation turned to her work.

"And how is your dungeon-dweller, Sigyn?" Hrefna asked, and Sigyn sighed heavily. Hrefna frowned at this. "I heard you were doing well?"

"I suppose I am," she said. "It's just difficult. There is so much I don't know about him, and everyone I speak to is so secretive." Well, probably not everyone, she thought, but how did she know they were telling her the whole truth? She had thought the Queen was answering every question she had, but she had hidden a marriage from her. Who knew what else there was?

"Do you think you will be ready for the trial?"

Sigyn considered before answering. "I think I will if I continue to progress at this rate." She paused, words hovering in her mouth. She studied Hrefna, wondering whether it would be safe to confide more of her worries in her.

Hrefna reached out and took Sigyn's hand.

"What is it that bothers you, Sigyn? I can tell there is more."

Sigyn struggled a few moments more. "This must stay between us," she began, a blush already blooming across her cheeks. Hrefna gave her a solemn nod. Sigyn took a breath. "I– he has been having a strange effect on me. It's– I know I shouldn't, but– I find myself very attracted to him. And I'm not sure what to do about it."

Hrefna's eyebrows rose, but to her credit, she did her best to hide her reaction. "Um, well–" Hrefna considered her words. "I never met him, but before… all this, I know he was considered very charming when he wanted to be. Perhaps it isn't so surprising that you are experiencing these feelings."

Sigyn nodded, at least partially comforted.

Hrefna continued. "I'm sure you realise, though, that this could compromise your work."

"I know!" Sigyn said, "That is why I don't know what to do. I can't allow it to continue, but I don't know how to stop it. I feel ashamed."

Tears of shame and frustration bloomed in Sigyn's eyes and Hrefna raised a hand to cup her cheek.

"Don't be ashamed, Sigyn. We are all embarrassed by our feelings sometimes. It is our bodies, not our hearts or minds."

Sigyn nodded, though she wasn't sure she agreed. Not in this instance, anyway.

"I know what you should do," Hrefna said, and Sigyn's eyes shot up to meet hers.

"What?"

Hrefna gave her a cheeky grin. "Send a message to Theoric. Ask to meet him tonight. Perhaps he can take your mind off your work, and," a wink, "I know it's still some time until the wedding, but it wouldn't hurt to move certain things along sooner than planned, if you know what I mean."

Sigyn laughed and wiped away her tears. She would be lying to herself if she said Hrefna's suggestion didn't sound appealing.

"Thank you, Hrefna," she said. "I knew I could rely on you."

"You always can," Hrefna said, wrapping Sigyn in a hug. "I swear I won't tell a soul what you've told me."

Sigyn nearly cried again. She had been so busy recently that she had forgotten she was loved. The gratitude she felt towards Hrefna for her unhesitating support was overwhelming. She needed to shake off the dust of books and dungeons and be a normal young woman for a day – or at least for an evening.

When she and Hrefna ended their conversation and Hrefna went back to her work, Sigyn only went to her office to write a note to Theoric, then she made her way home to bathe and change her clothes. She would forget all about the palace, the dungeons and her dreams, if only for a few hours.

-xxx-

She met Theoric as he left the palace. He had got her note in good time and left work showered and casually dressed, rather than waiting to get home. They had walked along the canals, talking and flirting, their usual routine, before finding somewhere to eat. She told him at the start that she had no interest in talking about work or duty, only about each other and things that made them happy. At first this had made conversation difficult as they struggled to find questions to ask and topics to explore, but they soon warmed to each other's company and their speech began to flow.

As they ate, drank and laughed, their spirits rose and they inched ever closer to one another. They had finally, after all these awkward weeks, found a rhythm together – the right chemistry for their relationship. Sigyn felt her heart begin to stir, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just the ale.

By the time they left the tavern they had wandered into together, Sigyn felt quite drunk. Not just with alcohol, but with pleasure and affection. She leant on Theoric as they crossed the threshold into the street, the cool Asgardian night spinning gently around her, her worries a mere distant whisper at the back of her mind. She registered other people on the street. Groups of friends, other couples, old people, young people, even some people walking alone, taking in the care-free night and the beautiful city, still glittering under the floating street lamps. She felt Theoric's arms around her and in a rush of ebullient abandon she turned around and kissed him.

There was heat in this kiss – far more than had ever passed between them – and the thought skipped across her mind that they shouldn't really be kissing like this in public. The arms that pressed her closer and the tongue that brushed against hers didn't seem to care, though, and she didn't have the energy or the desire to stop them.

She didn't remember much of the journey back to her room. Not just as a result of intoxication, but the feeling in her chest, too. Freedom. She was having  _fun_. So much fun. She felt her age again, silly and irresponsible, skipping through the streets with an attractive man on her arm, he just as drunk and joyful as she. They didn't care who saw them, what their actions meant or how they'd feel about it in the morning. They just danced into the night.

When she let him into her room, it didn't even cross her mind that it was a mess and that she should be embarrassed for him to see her things scattered across her floor, clothes and papers and books piled on every surface. She closed the door behind him, thankfully remembering to lock the door against any trespassers from the tavern below, and pulled him to her bed. She began pushing books and cushions off it, clumsily clearing a space for them, but he reached past her and removed all the debris at once by giving the blankets one almighty shake. She giggled and he picked her up, throwing them both down on the mattress.

Neither of them hesitated. They consumed each other greedily, if clumsily; not particularly taking care, but certainly taking pleasure. It had been some time since Sigyn had done this, too often occupied with her work to acknowledge any lust, but her body had clearly missed it. Perhaps the ale clouding her mind was contributing, but she barely realised she was with Theoric. She was focused so entirely on physical sensation, as though her conscious mind had taken the opportunity for a rest and switched itself off. The next day, it was this on which she blamed her blurring of reality and imagination. As she neared release, she could have sworn it was not Theoric but Loki who was on top of her, beneath her, behind her – but she thanked the Norns that her senses returned before she had blurted out anything she couldn't take back.

Afterwards, they both fell into a deep exhausted sleep, arms and legs still entwined. In the morning, the sun streamed through the windows she hadn't had the presence of mind to cover the night before, waking them up unpleasantly early. Theoric was every inch the gentleman, venturing downstairs to bring her breakfast and water to stave off her hangover. They kissed and cuddled more sweetly and carefully than the evening before, easing the aches and bruises they had given each other.

They were both meant to work today. Thankfully, Theoric's shift started in the afternoon, so he hadn't been required to run off as early as he might have done another day. Sigyn's work was more flexible. In fact, she didn't actually have to go at all, but she knew Loki would be irritable if she delayed her visit. She supposed if you lived in a dungeon, entertainment was hard to come by and company took on a new significance. She focused the morning's efforts on ridding herself of the unpleasant effects of too much ale and on consolidating the progress she and Theoric had made together.

When it came time for Theoric to leave, she walked to the palace with him, hand in hand, the two of them glowing for all to see.

-xxx-

"I've finished these," Loki said the moment she crossed the threshold of his cell. He was holding up the papers she had brought him on her last visit. "Interesting, but I do have some notes."

Sigyn put her bag down on a table and reached into it. She pulled out another bundle and handed them to the prince. "It's very well that I've brought you some more, then," she said. She paused for a moment, considering whether her next action was a wise one, then reached back into the bag and took out a quill. As harmless as a quill normally was, it was still a sharp and pointy object, and she wasn't sure if she was meant to be handing those out to prisoners. In the end, though, she decided he was hardly more dangerous with a writing implement than without one. He could still kill her if it took his fancy.

He was scanning the titles of the new articles she'd given him and didn't notice the offer of the quill until she spoke. "So that you can write down your notes," she said. "I wouldn't want you to forget any of them."

He took the quill with the ghost of a smile. "Thank you."

Loki had glanced up at her while he said this before returning to the papers in his hands, but after a beat or two he looked up again, frowning.

"You look well," he said.

Sigyn laughed. "You say that as though it is a bad thing."

"No," he shook his head, putting the papers to one side. "You look very well. Glowing, in fact. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing," Sigyn said, crushing a bud of apprehension. "Nothing beyond my usual tasks."

Loki stared at her, his eyes narrowing, as though subjecting her to such fixed attention would force her secrets to reveal themselves.

"Have you– Have you been seeing a man?"

She blushed deeply, and upon feeling the heat, she blushed deeper still out of embarrassment.

"Yes," she said. "You know this. I am betrothed."

" _What?_ "

His eyes doubled in size and his mouth flew open in what she was astounded to identify as outrage.

"You are  _betrothed?_  Why was I not informed! Betrothed to whom?"

A laugh echoed down from one of the other cells and Loki leapt to his feet. Before he could react to his dungeon-mate's impudence, Sigyn's hands were on his shoulders in an effort to placate him. He allowed her to encourage him back to a sitting position, but he was not pacified.

"Loki," Sigyn said in her most calming voice. It didn't seem to help at all. "You have my apologies. I thought you knew. His name is Theoric."

"Theoric," he repeated, his tongue acidic.

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"A Crimson Hawk, and a very nice man."

Loki stared at her as though he hoped she would combust. "And he is the one who has made you look so– so radiant."

"I'm not sure if I would say 'radiant'," she said, considering whether to answer yes or no. She supposed technically the answer would be yes – Theoric was the man she was seeing. That wasn't Loki's question, though. She had no idea what he meant by calling her 'radiant', so how could she answer truthfully? Eventually she decided to give the only answer she could: "Theoric is the man I have been seeing, so if you think a man is the cause of whatever change you think you have detected in me, then he is the man you seek."

Loki frowned, his gaze not budging. "How long has this been going on?"

"A few months. Three, perhaps. Since before my work started here."

Loki looked away from her now, his eyes falling on something behind her. If she didn't know any better she would have sworn she saw disappointment in his expression.

"Do I detect jealousy?" she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "I will still come to see you when I am married."

He let out a sliver of laughter. "Jealousy. I am always accused of jealousy. I only expected that you would have told me."

"I thought I had told you. I've made no effort to hide it. I'm sorry, Loki."

There was silence between them for a while and Sigyn thought he must have lost interest in the topic. She was about to start on something else when he spoke again.

"Do you love him?"

She gaped at him, astounded by his impertinence. "What sort of question is that?"

"An important one," he snapped. "And one you would have no qualms asking of me if our positions were reversed, so don't you dare affect offense!"

"It is none of your business!"

"If the answer were 'yes' you would have said so immediately."

She felt her cheeks heating up. She didn't want to be angry with him, and she didn't want him to be angry with her, but she wouldn't be spoken to like this.

"I do not know him well. The betrothal was suggested and arranged by him and our parents, and I would be a fool to refuse him. He is kind, attractive and a respected warrior. I am fortunate to have caught his eye."

"You slept with him, didn't you? Last night."

Sigyn's entire body went rigid with outrage. "How dare you!" she spluttered, feeling her face heat up again. She must be red as a tomato. He would be able to read the answer in her reaction as plainly as if she'd shouted it from the rooftops.

"Sigyn, you surprise me. Aren't you meant to wait until the wedding in these arranged engagements?" His expression was amused but his voice was like ice. "I would never have suspected you of such licentiousness."

"Licentious? You hypocrite! I know all about what you used to get up to before they locked you away," she wanted to offend him, but he just laughed at her. A cruel sound. "I won't stand for this. You might not have any respect for me, but I'm still a lady. Goodbye," she said, spinning on her heel and moving to leave the cell.

He stood and grabbed her arm.

"You should not marry without love," he said, the animosity in his voice in conflict with his soft words. "You will be miserable."

Why did he keep pushing? Why was he trying to ruin this for her? "Strange advice coming from you," she said. "Many say you cannot love."

"That is nothing but a malicious lie."

Fury flared up in his eyes and she instantly regretted bringing up that particular accusation. She let her voice sink low and emptied her eyes of anger before speaking again. Some might claim her backing down was cowardice, but she liked to think of it as self-preservation. Now that they were on the topic, however, she might as well try to broach a subject she'd been meaning to discuss with him for a while. It would be satisfying to turn the conversation around on him, too.

"I know it is a lie. I know you've been in love."

Confusion flashed across his features. She doubted he had expected her to know anything about that side of him. "That is none of your concern."

"I answered your questions, now you answer mine."

"You didn't answer my questions."

Sigyn pressed her lips together. She might not have answered verbally, but he had his answers. Clearly he wanted her to have to say it. "Fine. No, I don't love him, though I will in time, and yes, I did sleep with him – and it was wonderful. Happy?"

"No," he said, but he was much calmer now. He had won.

"Well too bad. Now, tell me about her."

"It is too personal."

"And what you asked me was not?"

He looked away from her, and for a moment she wondered whether she was right to push him, even after he had done it to her. Maybe she should just leave. He seemed to be closing himself off again, and the sessions in which he refused to speak were always the worst.

"How did you find out?"

"Your friend Amora. She told me about the women she'd seen you with," she didn't mention the men. The guards were listening in. "And – and about the one you briefly married."

Sigyn watched him, hoping he would speak to her. He looked like he was struggling, and when he eventually spoke he didn't look at her.

"I was young – perhaps your age. Yes, I believe I was your age," he said. "I don't know what to tell you."

He stopped, his expression unrecognisable to Sigyn. She did not know quite what to make of it. Was it pain? She couldn't let him stop there, though. His obvious discomfort was making her heart swell, but her curiosity was more pressing.

"Where did you meet her?"

He looked up at her suddenly, frowning.

"Does it matter?"

"I am curious."

He seemed to accept that answer, though suspicion flashed across his features.

"I met her at a feast," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "In honour of her family's arrival in Asgard. There were many men competing for her attention, but she came to me."

Sigyn was watching him as closely as she could, but couldn't glean anything.

"What was she like?"

"She was unusual. Blindingly exquisite and with the sharp and playful wit of a Vanir bard. That was why the other men failed to please her – they could not see her cleverness behind the shroud of her beauty. Perhaps they did not want to see it. Many men seem to prefer their women vapid."

Loki collapsed slightly, tension draining from his body. He moved to sit back down in his usual spot on the bed.

He continued: "She was difficult at times, and although she was completely chaste, she was an outrageous coquette. I am amazed, now, that I was able to control my desire through all her teasing. She refused to share my bed until we were married, and royal marriages take an age to organise."

Sigyn lips twitched upwards with suppressed amusement, and Loki raised his eyebrows.

"Do not mock me, child. It was a difficult time."

"Of course it was. It is good to know that you have a healthy libido."

She needed to contain herself. She didn't know whether amusement would put him off. It was difficult to tell whether or not he was serious – he had a penchant for very dry humour and she was not always confident in her ability to detect it.

"I am not certain I would call it healthy at present," he muttered. "I receive few visitors."

She remembered what Amora had said about him scarcely going a week without a lover. She wondered if it were true and how many there had really been. Surely there weren't enough people in Asgard for him to have taken a new lover every week. There must have been plenty of repeat visitors, unless Amora had just said it to get to her. She put it out of her mind.

"You have some visitors," she said. "Well, you have Frigga and I."

"Yes, and both women – though one is my mother and the other is betrothed."

She did allow herself a soft laugh here and he seemed to appreciate it.

"What was it about her that made you willing to wait?" She returned to the topic at hand. "How did she convince you to make her a princess before getting any satisfaction from her?"

He gave her a wry smile. "How does anyone steal a heart?"

She fell silent, suddenly unable to think of a question. She wanted to know what had made Glut so special, how she had got someone as complicated as Loki to feel something as simple as love. Maybe he had been simpler back then, or maybe love was more complicated than she thought. Her own inexperience blocked her line of enquiry.

He was giving her a strange look – as if he was trying to figure her out. His gaze made her suddenly very uncomfortable. Thankfully, he continued without prompting.

"It wasn't immediate," he said, "if that's what puzzles you. Despite what many like to believe, love at first sight does not exist. Those people simply can't tell the difference between love and lust, and it was lust that Glut inspired wherever she went. I was attracted to her from the moment I saw her, but she liked to play with people before revealing her true intentions."

"A little like you," Sigyn said.

"Yes, a lot like me," he replied, "which is why I hated her at first. No one likes to have their own tricks turned against them, or to recognise their faults reflected in others."

He seemed to have eased into telling her this story, and the atmosphere felt almost safe again. She sat down beside him, realising that she had been standing since she came in. He didn't react to her movement.

"I watched her reject so many suitors, publicly humiliate so many men who made themselves vulnerable to her. I am often entertained by the misfortunes of others, but watching her antics stung because she had done the same to me at that first feast. I didn't like to be counted among those fools, sniggered at by those she'd yet to victimise. It even affected the opinions of other women – the ladies of the court didn't want to be seen with Glut's cast-offs, even if one of them was a prince. The rejection itself hadn't really bothered me, but the aftermath was most vexing.

"One day I saw her walking in the gardens by herself and went to confront her. I'm not sure what I had been planning to say, but I needed to make it clear to her that she had slighted a son of Odin and this behaviour needed to stop. When I reached her, before I had any time to speak, she threw her arms around me and said she had been wandering beneath my window every day for a week hoping that I would come and speak to her. We conversed at length about – oh, I don't remember. Magic, history, politics. I realised she was educated and intelligent as well as beautiful and that her toying with men was due to boredom. By the time we stopped talking the sun had set and begun to rise again. She promised to accompany me to the next celebration, but I didn't believe for a moment that she meant it.

"Weeks later, when a feast was thrown in honour of a visiting Álfar delegation, I had nearly forgotten her promise. There had been other conversations like that first one, but I wasn't so foolish as to think I had won her. I attended alone, and as soon as the dinner was over, she was by my side, furious. I ushered her onto a balcony where fewer people would hear the argument, and within half an hour she had me burning for her. She used the argument to heat my blood and took immediate advantage. I said she was chaste – well, chastity still allows for quite a lot. You can imagine my frustration when she wouldn't come back to my rooms.

"Within a few more weeks she had my promise to marry her and half a year later the ceremony took place. I'll admit it was hurried, but I had never been so certain of anything in my life."

Sigyn was struck dumb. She had never dared to hope he would give her so much detail. He had seemed far away while he told the story, but sadness had started to creep into his expression now. She scrambled for a question to ask.

"So– um– was the marriage happy? I mean before–"  _Tactless, Sigyn._  It was the wrong thing to say. His face went dark, and before he could answer, she retracted it. "I mean, was the wedding happy?"

The shadow on his features didn't disappear, but it didn't grow. "It was a wedding. They are all fairly similar."

"I bet the wedding night was good," she tried, internally cringing as soon as she'd spoken.

He didn't answer, but she saw something even darker cross his features. Something lustful.

She tried again to lighten things, crushing her own pang of lust that had flared up looking into his eyes. "How did your family feel about her?"

It seemed innocuous enough a question to her – one like she usually asked him – but Loki blinked at her, momentarily confused. Then his expression grew ferocious. When he spoke, Sigyn was taken aback by the venom in his voice.

"They didn't believe she loved me. They wanted me to wait even longer to make sure. Even my mother, who I'd always thought was on my side. The great oaf Thor could not understand why she would choose me over him. Of course he wanted her – every time I turned my gaze to a woman with any serious intention he would claim her before I could approach. Glut rejected him, naturally, but not before she had spent half an evening toying with him." His anger was rising. He stood and paced the cell, too aggravated to remain seated. Sigyn knew she should interrupt, maybe to ask another, less offensive question, but he continued too quickly. "Odin then encouraged him to court her, believing her to be madly in love with him as is assumed of all women seen within a mile of Thor. Imagine his shock when she chose me, the monster."

Sigyn sighed. "Loki, you are not a monster. We have discussed this."

"Oh?" The rage previously directed at Thor and Odin was hurled at her. "Are you certain? Why not ask the families of those I've killed? Those whose homes I have destroyed? Those whose minds I have burnt and scarred, whose lives I left in tatters? Even Glut could not escape my curse – murdered in our bed. I wasn't even there to stop it."

His voice kept rising. He had moments like this sometimes – sudden violent outbursts – almost as if to remind her that he was insane. Recalling his crimes seemed to feed his fury, and Sigyn knew she needed to calm him down.

"Loki, please," she began, standing and inching towards him, but he continued.

"How many children do you suppose perished by my hand in Jotunheim and Midgard? I have committed crimes on a scale grander than any in this realm – grander even than Odin himself – and I feel no sliver of remorse!"

"Loki, calm down!"

Sigyn was beginning to shake. His eyes were blazing, savage, and his face was twisted into a ferocious sneer. She knew she should leave the cell before he lost control. She could see the magical barrier out of the corner of her eye, calling for her, but for the life of her she could not move. She couldn't even look away. She needed him to calm down. He might hurt himself.

"I have seen things so horrific that you would go mad to look upon them! I have done things that would make you sick with hatred and disgust! Asgard knows not even half of what I have been through and the atrocities for which I am responsible. I have massacred the innocent. I have decimated the righteous. Not just in Jotunheim and Midgard, but in the void and the lands beyond! I am an ally of the mad titan! I am a traitor and a murderer!"

Sigyn drew in a ragged breath and dared to speak, urging her voice to remain even.

"That does not make you a monster."

"No," he said. "This does."

Red eyes.

Red eyes and freezing hands – that's all she could remember. Her feet were suddenly off the ground. She felt something hard against her back. The wall, she realised. Someone was shouting at her. Some _thing?_  It was Loki's voice, but whatever this was, it couldn't be him. It couldn't be. She was so  _cold!_

She thought she screamed, but she couldn't be sure. The thing was pulled away from her, and she heard… Thor?

She sank to the ground against the wall, shivering, and when her vision cleared and she looked up, she saw Thor standing before her and Loki kneeling in shackles, his mouth muzzled. He looked normal. What had happened?

Thor attached Loki's chains to a railing on the bed and came to kneel beside her, placing himself so she couldn't see Loki.

"Lady Sigyn," he said, "are you all right?"

"I'm cold," she replied. "What happened?"

Thor looked around the room, presumably to find her a blanket of some sort, but the only blanket was on the bed.

"I am deeply sorry, my Lady. Loki attacked you, but fortunately I was not far away."

"What?"

"I am only sorry I could not arrive sooner."

That didn't make sense. How did Thor even know that she was being attacked? He hadn't even been in the dungeon. She shook her head. That wasn't really the main concern right now. Loki had  _attacked_ her. Had he?

"But… that…" She stopped. Of course it had been Loki. Cold, red eyes, blue – he had stripped away the magic shielding his true form. Why or how she didn't know, but commenting on it would set them back months. She had to control her confusion.

She stood up abruptly.

"Careful," Thor warned, but she had already walked over to the bed where Loki still knelt, looking for all the world like a child at prayer. If that child were manacled.

"What was that?" She asked, her voice coming out more wobbly than she had intended.

He glared, unable to reply, his eyes smouldering with anger and humiliation. He couldn't reply, of course, but she was glad.

"I am attempting to help you. How dare you toss that good will aside? There is nothing keeping me here. I have no ties to you." She wasn't sure what she was saying, but she needed to say something. She was full of words and she had no idea what to do with them.

She turned away from him, looking at Thor.

"Thank you," she said. "I have to go."

She left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

"Loki, what thoughts possessed you to behave like this?"

He could see Thor in the corner of his eye, but refused to look at him.

"Loki."

If he wanted a reaction he would have to unchain him first.

As though Thor had heard his thoughts, he stepped forward and removed the muzzle.

"I will not unshackle you, but I will remove this. I do not like it, but it was required earlier to prevent your use of harsh words against Lady Sigyn. Speak to me, Loki. What enraged you?"

"I will not answer you until you unchain me from this bed. I refuse to continue kneeling."

With a huff of exasperation, Thor did as was asked. Loki could not escape, anyway, and he was still manacled. Now, however, he could stand up and address Thor from almost equal ground. Almost.

"That woman," he spat, "does nothing but pry and provoke."

Thor raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that the two of you were finding each other quite agreeable."

"Agreeable? Ha!" He could no longer stand still and had to walk the short distance to the other side of the cell. He put a hand on the wall where he had pinned Sigyn. "She infuriates me."

He turned to look at Thor again. He looked disappointed underneath his stern brow and disapproving eyes – it seemed he believed him. In truth, he wasn't sure why he had got so angry. Yes, Sigyn had been prying into something very personal, but he had thought he was in control. He hadn't been coaxed into sharing Glut's story, it had been a strategic decision, and entirely his own. Sigyn had a lover – he needed to paint himself as one to further encourage her affection, and the more he appeared to open up to her, the closer she got. He didn't understand what had happened to him. It was as if something inside him had snapped.

He turned back to Thor. "Why are you here? Have you been lurking in this dungeon during Sigyn's visits?"

Thor ignored his enquiries. "This is unacceptable, Brother."

"Do  _not_  call me Brother!"

"I do not care what you want to be called! I will not have you attacking an unarmed woman who only tries to help you. I will arrange for the barrier to be made impermeable to her. She will not enter your cell again."

At this, Loki cursed his mistake. He needed her to be as close as possible.

"I will not touch her again," he said, his face serious.

"Excuse me if I do not trust you."

Loki bared his teeth in anger. "She can make her own decisions. You think she will appreciate your adjustments to the barrier?"

"I do not care whether she appreciates it; it must be done."

Thor paused for a moment and the two brothers glared at each other.

Suddenly Thor's expression changed. Something must have occurred to him. "How did you strip away Father's illusion?"

Loki stared at Thor for a long time, contemplating how to answer. Revealing his form had been a mistake. In that moment he had wanted to – had wanted to  _so much_. To see the terror on Sigyn's face had been beyond satisfying. How he had done it, however, he wasn't sure. Perhaps his magic was adapting to the restrictions placed upon it, but when he called upon it now, it wasn't there. He tried to make his hand turn blue. Nothing.

"I know not," he said, opting for the truth. It was more helpful than lies in this particular instance.

"To lie to me now is futile, Loki. If you have access to your magic the restrictions can be increased."

No. The discomfort was already enough.

"I do not lie to you. The magic of this illusion is not even mine – why should I understand it?"

Thor clearly didn't believe him. To be fair, it wasn't exactly true. The magic was his. He just didn't know how to use it.

Thor walked swiftly up to him.

"There will be repercussions for what happened today," he said. "I will find Lady Sigyn and speak with her, and we will come to a decision together. This will not be forgotten."

With that, Thor strode through the barrier.

"Thor, aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, holding up his manacled wrists pointedly.

He stopped, turning around briefly to glance back into the cell.

"No," he said, and walked away.

-xxx-

Sigyn was halfway out of the palace, straining to hold back tears now that the initial shock had worn off, when she realised she had frostbite. Her fingers were black where she had tried to pry Loki's hands away from her neck and he could only assume her neck was black, too. She would have expected a stinging sensation, but both areas felt completely numb. She changed direction and made her way to the healing wing.

As she stepped through the door, she heard a gasp.

"Sigyn!" A healer she knew fairly well, a young woman called Yngvild, ran towards her. "What happened to you?"

"Frostbite," she said, a little unsure whether or not to explain exactly what kind of frostbite it was.

"But it's summer?" Yngvild frowned.

Sigyn put a hand on Yngvild's forearm, and the woman jerked away, taking the hand and turning it over to look at the black skin.

"Could you take me to Eir?"

Yngvild led her further into the healing wing and knocked on the door to a separate office. Eir, stern and brusque, opened the door.

"What is it, Yngvild?"

"Sigyn," she said, presenting the frostbitten hand.

Eir's eyes widened. "Thank you, that will be all."

Yngvild curtseyed as Eir firmly grasped Sigyn's shoulder and pulled her into the office, shutting the door behind them.

"Loki's work, I suppose?" Eir asked, wasting no time collecting supplies from her cabinets.

"Yes, unfortunately," Sigyn replied, taking a nearby seat. "It's all under control. Thor was there. I didn't actually notice I'd been hurt until after I left."

Eir took out a large bowl and began mixing her collected ingredients into a paste. "Burns from a frost giant bypass the usual stages of frostbite. They blister instantly and reach the final phase in a matter of seconds. Your affected skin is already dead. Drink this."

Eir handed her a phiall and Sigyn downed its contents as Eir turned back to her work. When Eir returned to collect the empty phiall, she had what looked like a chisel in her hand.

"Um– what is that?"

"Oh, this?" Eir held the chisel-like implement up in front of her. "Well, it's essentially a chisel. We have to remove your dead skin before applying the paste.

Sigyn cringed away, shaking her head. "Really? I don't think you need to do that."

"Oh, don't be foolish," Eir said, grabbing Sigyn's nearest hand. "You already took a draught for the pain. You won't feel a thing."

Eir was right, as it happened. She chipped away all the blackened skin on Sigyn's hand, revealing raw red underneath. Amazingly, there was no blood. Eir informed her that the chisel-thing was enchanted to staunch the flow of blood. No point in patients losing blood all over the place. Eir moved on to the next hand with no issues and then took a big spoon of the mixture she'd created in the bowl and applied it liberally over both of the exposed areas. Sigyn's neck was more of a problem, since the skin was thinner and the frostbite more pronounced, but Eir made quick work of it after making sure her hair wasn't going to be in the way. After giving Sigyn a quick once-over to check for any more frostbitten areas, she was given the all clear.

"Take the rest of this balm," Eir said, scooping what was left of the mixture into a jar. "You will need to reapply it every five hours until it heals. You should be fine in a day and a half."

"Thank you," Sigyn said, reaching for the door handle.

"You did the right thing asking for me," Eir placed a hand on her shoulder, more gently than Sigyn was used to from the head healer. "Not everyone knows yet, and I would rather the information not leak from my department."

Sigyn nodded, and was reaching for the handle again when a knock startled her.

"Yes," Eir said, and the door opened. Frigga was stood there, looking concerned.

Her eyes flicked to Sigyn. "Ahh, good. You are here," she said, some of her concern waning. She addressed Eir again. "Do you mind if I come in for a minute?"

Eir gestured for Frigga to step inside. The queen closed the door behind her. "Treated without any problems?"

Eir nodded. "She came straight here."

"Good."

Sigyn glanced between Eir and the queen, anxiety rising. "Your majesty," she said, her gaze now fixed only on Frigga. "It was an accident. I don't want him to be punished."

Frigga looked at her, her expression impossible to read. "It didn't sound like an accident, from what Thor told me."

"He wasn't there," Sigyn said, then corrected herself: "he wasn't there the whole time. Loki just lost his temper – I don't believe he meant to hurt me."

Frigga sighed heavily. "I would like to believe that too, but I'm not so certain. There will be consequences for this, and Thor has suggested that you no longer be allowed into the cell."

"No!" she cried, then gasped. "I'm so sorry, your majesty. I didn't mean to shout. I just… I don't think that's necessary. We were making excellent progress until this incident."

Frigga looked at Eir, who looked back. It was as if they were having a conversation without speaking. Sigyn imagined she could see the back and forth between them. Frigga –  _what do you think?_ Eir –  _I'm not sure, but she might be right._  Frigga – _she might be wrong._ Eir –  _I don't know. It's her risk to take._  Frigga –  _is it?_

Eventually Frigga broke off this strange connection and addressed Sigyn. "If you want to keep entering the cell that is your prerogative, but if this happens again we will make the barrier impermeable."

"Thank you! Thank you so much."

Frigga's posture softened. "You say you are making good progress?"

"We are. He told me some very personal things today that he never would have a few weeks ago. That may be why he got upset. He has a big problem with being vulnerable."

"He always has," Frigga replied sadly. "Even as a child."

A thought occurred to Sigyn. "Your majesty," she began, hesitant. "In a few more weeks, when I can be sure he won't have another outburst, would you be willing to accompany me to a session? Some of the things I've spoken to him about should perhaps be discussed with family, and I think you are the only one he would agree to see. At least at first."

Frigga smiled broadly. It was dazzling. "That would be wonderful. Excellent suggestion."

Sigyn took the queen's hand without thinking. Eir stifled a gasp. "I really believe in your son, your majesty. He's a mess, but we will fix him."

Frigga brought her other hand up to enfold Sigyn's. "Bless you, my child. We will. Together."

Neither Sigyn nor Frigga noticed Eir's concerned expression and, naturally, neither could know about the mental note she took to keep an eye on the two of them. It wasn't that Eir was a pessimist, but rather that she had enough experience to know that vowing to 'fix' someone, however sincerely intended, never ended well.

-xxx-

This time Amora visited during the day.

It had been three days since Loki's outburst, and he hadn't seen Sigyn at all. Part of him wondered whether she would ever come back, but he knew she would. It was just a matter of time. He would admit, though, that he wasn't expecting a visit from the Enchantress.

It was the muttering of the man in the cell beside him that gave her away this time. He had been muttering all day and Loki was contemplating attempting to cross the barrier out of his cell just so that he could enter the neighbouring cell and shut him up. When he abruptly stopped, it was too convenient to have been of his own volition, so Loki waited.

"I know you are there," he said eventually.

Amora materialised, sitting in the chair on the other side of the room.

"Will you attack me if I show myself?"

The sound Loki made was somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"Have you come to scold me as well?"

"Loki, why would you do that?" she exclaimed, rising from the seat and moving to stand in front of him where he sat on the bed. "Our scheme was progressing so well! She had truly begun to trust you, her affection was growing by the day, and then you ruin everything and repulse her with your disgusting Jotun face.  _Why_ , Loki? Do you not want to be released?"

He stood to loom over her. He did not like her looking down on him.

"It is not your place to question me," he spat. "You have done your part, now leave me be!"

Amora did not move at all. Irritating. Clearly she wasn't intimidated.

"You really are mad, aren't you?" she said. "I didn't believe it until this moment."

"What?" How  _dare_  she?

The cackle that erupted from her was infuriating.

"I understand it now. You didn't mean to attack her. You showed your  _hideous_  true self by accident, and now you're afraid she won't return. How pathetic."

He moved to seize her by the shoulders, but she dissolved under his grip, reappearing beyond the barrier.

Enraged and disoriented, Loki wheeled around to roar at her.

"Cancerous whore!"

He wanted to tear the amusement from her accursed face.

"Think about this meeting," she said, "when Sigyn next comes to visit – for she will come to visit. You need her to release you soon. Your trial approaches, and although none will openly admit it – the Chitauri are coming."

She left. The muttering resumed. Consumed with rage, Loki pummelled the wall between the cells.

"Be silent, wretched animal!" he bellowed. "Be silent or I shall silence you myself!"

The muttering stopped.

After a few moments a voice drifted down from a cell further down the corridor.

"Thank Karnilla for that."

-xxx-

When Sigyn returned it was a week later. She didn't enter the cell.

"I have been trying to find a way for you to expel your excess magic," she said. "I know it is making you uncomfortable. Unfortunately, not many sympathise and they all fear you will escape."

Loki remained on his bed and didn't look at her. She wondered whether he was still angry with her.

"Thank you," he said.

There was silence.

It had taken Sigyn some effort to come here. She knew she couldn't just leave him – well, she could, but she wouldn't feel right. She wanted to help him. She  _needed_  to help him. But the memory of what he had done remained firmly in the front of her mind, and it frightened her. Theoric had asked her not to continue and Hrefna had encouraged her to, but it was Frigga who had convinced her. Frigga and her dreams.

She just didn't know what she was supposed to do any more.

"Do I appall you?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Do I repulse you?" he looked up at her, his face so blank and neutral that, were his eyes closed, she would have thought him asleep, even though he was sitting upright. "Now that you have seen me without this Aesir glamour hiding my true skin?"

Oh. She stared into his eyes, trying to summon up all the sincerity she had ever possessed. Truthfully, she hadn't seen much when he changed. She had been too shocked. What she had seen and felt, however, still haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. Red eyes like a demon.

"No," she said. "Your race changes nothing."

For a second she thought he had believed her, but then he closed his eyes and turned away from her, his brows furrowed tight.

"It is kind of you to pretend. I suppose this proves me right. It is the Jotun blood that makes me a monster."

"Loki," she began, feeling terrible that she could not lie – or rather, that he could not believe her. "Please. I am afraid of you. I am. But it is shock – it is the shock of something different and new. I will grow accustomed to it. Everyone will."

"No they won't," he said.

Probably true, but she wasn't going to admit that.

"Loki," she said. He didn't look at her. "Loki."

Nothing. She took a deep breath.

"Norns protect me," she muttered to the ceiling, and stepped through the barrier. She was thankful she had managed to convince Thor and Frigga not to close it to her. It wasn't until she was sat on the bed right next to Loki that he looked up, confused.

"Do I look repulsed?" she asked. To be honest, she actually felt the memory of the Jotun Loki dissolving the longer she looked at Aesir Loki, but a new fear had risen to replace it. With less than a metre between them and no barrier, she felt extremely vulnerable.

"You are still afraid."

"Of course I am. Last time we met you attacked me, if you recall."

Loki winced. "Yes, I apologise for that. I am not certain what came over me."

"You are unwell," she said. "And I am here to help you get better. If you will let me."

There was something strange in his eyes – something that reminded her of her visions. Was it starting already? Maybe it was the light, but she had never seen his eyes look so green before, and she couldn't look away.

He did, though, and the moment was gone.

"I would prefer not to speak today," he said, "but I enjoy your company. Would you mind merely sitting with me?"

"Not at all," she said, and shifted on the bed so she was more comfortable. He smiled and pulled some of the most recent academic papers she'd given him out from behind the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trial is here!

Loki's trial was held two weeks before Sigyn's wedding, four and a half months since their sessions began. It was a rainy and rather miserable day, and Sigyn felt more tired than she had in a long time. She was ready to speak – she had been ready to speak for a long time – but she wasn't sure she was ready to hear what everyone else had to say.

She entered the hall of justice with the other speakers, none of whom she had heard utter a single word. Heimdall and Thor were to speak, which wasn't surprising. They were the only ones who could really talk about what Loki did before he fell into the abyss. It occurred to her that there really ought to have been a Jotun speaker to tell of what the attack had done to Jotunheim, but apparently even though Asgard cared enough to consider it a crime, they did not care enough to allow the victims a voice. Also among the speakers were several humans, who she could only assume had fought Loki during his bid to control their realm.

There was an imposing man, clad entirely in darkest black and with patch covering one eye, who held Sigyn's attention the most. He had the air of a leader about him, and he barely moved, not even to breathe, but he looked world-weary, as though he had seen too much and bore too many burdens. It struck Sigyn as unusual for a short-lived mortal. She wondered what had made him so. Beside him was a tall and beautiful man with blonde hair and a kind face. He could have been Aesir if not for his peaceful aura, and he was the only one of the group who acknowledged her first. The nod of his head in her direction during a brief connection of their eyes was not much, but it was polite, and she respected that. Standing beside Thor, her hand holding his in a gesture of comfort was a delicate woman with long brown hair. She was small, and she looked odd beside the mighty Thor, but Sigyn supposed that she herself was not much taller. The woman was beautiful, too, and held herself with graceful poise. The last human was an older man, standing somewhere between the woman and the two other men. He looked the most uncomfortable by far.

When they took their places, there was no particular arrangement, and Sigyn found herself sitting beside the uncomfortable man.

"What is your name?" she asked him gently.

He started, but then offered a troubled smile. "Dr Selvig. Or Erik. Call me Erik."

"It is good to meet you, Erik," she said. Now that he was aware he of being watched, he was putting on an excellent brave act. She smiled inwardly, assured now that he was strong and would cope perfectly fine. "The trial will be long, but nothing will be asked of you besides what you wish to give."

"I know," he said, although clearly that knowledge hadn't quelled his fears entirely. "Thor asked us here, and I trust him. It's all just a bit overwhelming."

"That's understandable."

The hall was filling up fast. There weren't many required to attend. There was a jury comprised of representatives of the different regions of Asgard, the councillors who advised Odin, and who were required only at such important trials as this, a unit of Crimson Hawks, a few representatives from the Institute for Asgardian Communications, who would report the events to the people, and finally the King, Queen, and the speakers. And, of course, Loki, but he would be arriving last.

"I'm very sorry, but I never asked your name," Erik said, and she turned back to face him.

"Sigyn," she said. "I'm here to present an assessment of Loki's mental health."

He looked shocked at the mention of her name, but she had no time to pursue the topic before gungnir hit the ground three times, and the hall hushed.

"Rise for the commencing of the trial," the Allfather's voice rang, permeating the room in a way that only his voice could.

Everyone stood, and Sigyn noticed with amusement how Erik tried to hide the wonder on his face. Perhaps even on Midgard they had heard stories of the Allfather. He did look magnificent today, as he always did on important occasions. He and Queen Frigga were seated on a raised platform – despite the architect's clear effort to keep all in the room on the same level. She supposed, though, that it made sense that he who would be the ultimate judge should be higher than the rest.

"Bring forth the defendant."

A small door behind the platform opened, and a small group of Crimson Hawks led a chained and muzzled Loki to a seat directly below the platform, in the centre. Theoric was among them! The seat was located in a box of sorts, with a magical barrier preventing escape. This was not the usual position of the box, and it was telling that Odin had placed Loki where everyone in the room could see him except himself and the Queen.

Sigyn also noted with a degree of shock the extent of the change in Erik. She could not see the other humans, who were too far down the aisle and were at the wrong angle, but Erik was shaking with some repressed emotion. She couldn't tell if it were anger or fear, or a mixture of both.

She watched the proceedings with curiosity, horror, and confusion.

The first section of the trial dealt with Loki's actions before falling from Asgard. Heimdall was first to speak, detailing how Loki turned on him to allow a group of Jotuns into Asgard, and then it was Thor's woman, who described the destruction of her town perpetrated by the Destroyer. Thor spoke next, with a strange mixture of condemnation and defence, of the fight on the Bifrost and Loki's attempted suicide. There was a murmur of anger from the gathered jury, who had never before heard of these events. Sigyn herself had only been told only when she accepted Frigga's request. At the time, a false story had been released to protect Loki's memory – the people of Asgard believed he had been killed by the invading Jotuns.

Frigga spoke next, and the crowd hushed. She explained Loki's heritage and his reaction to the news – how this had forced Odin into his sleep, and how he had subsequently closed himself off to her. She argued that this was why they had needed the false story. They knew the public would have trouble accepting a Jotun Prince and with so much grief and destruction already, they could not bear it. Nor could they bear to discuss his suicide. She claimed that while she could not defend anything he did after his supposed death, his actions in Asgard could and should be viewed as those of a desperate and tormented man. The jury's faces looked widely horrified, not sympathetic, but they dared not interrupt the Queen. When she left the speaker's stand, voices rose, and gungnir was required to silence them.

"There will be time for discussion soon enough," Odin boomed. "Loki, have you any words to offer in your own defence?"

Sigyn watched as Theoric, of all people, went to remove Loki's gag. Until now, Loki's face had been carefully neutral, but the glare he focused on the Crimson Hawk burned with hatred. Theoric was not ruffled in the slightest.

Once the gag was off, Loki rotated his jaw.

"No," he said, and refused to say any more. The gag was put back in place.

Odin stuck gungnir again. "Thus is the first part of the trial concluded. The jury will be given three hours to discuss what had been presented to them."

As everyone stood up to leave, she saw Odin walk towards his advisors and say something she couldn't hear. Frigga went down to the box where Loki was still sat, and it looked like she was apologising for something. He didn't look at her. Instead, his eyes wandered the room, settling eventually on where the speakers were still positioned, preparing to leave. He seemed to count each one before looking directly at Sigyn. She looked back, determined to appear unafraid. His eyes crinkled in what seemed to be a smile, but suddenly he was blocked from view by an armoured body. Theoric.

She got up and left with the other speakers.

Thor led them to a private banqueting hall for the midday meal. Heimdall had gone to speak with the Allfather, and the Warriors Three and Lady Sif had come to join the group, so it was them, Thor, the humans, and Sigyn who sat down to eat. No one ate much except for Volstagg, who seemed to eat even more when he was anxious.

They returned to the trial and it was very much the same as the first half, except that now the focus was on Loki's actions on Midgard.

The man Sigyn now knew was called Fury took the stand first. He introduced himself as the leader of the human organisation that dealt with Loki and the tesseract, and as such presented an overview of the events. Normally, Asgardian law required each speaker to tell only what they had seen and heard firsthand, but because of the sheer scale of the crime and the logistical difficulty of bringing large numbers of humans to Asgard, not all the humans involved could be brought forth to speak. The court seemed happy to trust Nick Fury to speak for them, however. His account was clear and impartial, and covered the events from Loki's arrival in their realm to his departure with Thor.

Steve, the blond man, spoke next, speaking as a warrior and a citizen. He recounted the destruction and the pain of the invasion, and the effect that it had on the people of the realm. It was an emotional speech. Steve was clearly a man of boundless heart, and goodness poured from him; the humans had chosen their speaker well. The eyes of the jury glistened – some with sympathy for the humans and some with anger towards Loki. Sigyn herself was shocked to hear the extent of the damage done to the minds and hearts of the humans. They were a race not used to war with other realms, and it was important to consider that. Any other of the nine realms would be furious, but not so deeply pained.

Erik went up last and described his time under Loki's control. This was not technically a necessary speech, since it did not add any new events, or indeed very much detail, but the humans had insisted it was necessary for the court to have an understanding of how profoundly Loki's crimes had affected the lives of his victims. There were a number of others like Erik, but he was the only one available and willing to speak. Sigyn was sickened by what she heard. She looked at Loki several times during the speech and was outraged by his lack of emotion. How could he sit there, listening to this, and not be ashamed? At the same time, however, she felt a strange irritation towards Erik himself. It was as though part of her refused to accept what Loki had done to him, and did not want to hear it. She tried to pretend that particular flicker of anger did not exist.

When Erik had sat back down, the Allfather struck gungnir again.

"Thus concludes the second part of the trial. Now we invite our only additional speaker to stand before us. Lady Sigyn, take your place."

Slightly startled to hear her name fall from the Allfather's lips, even though she knew very well that she was the last speaker, Sigyn stood. The eyes that latched onto her made her feel dizzy, and as she walked she kept her eyes entirely focused on the speaker's stand in the centre of the room. She felt horribly exposed when she got there. She faced the jury, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of Loki's eyes boring into the back of her head.

"For those of you who are not familiar with my work, I am Sigyn Osvaldrsdóttir," she began, "and I study illnesses of the mind."

The faces before her were extremely off-putting. Some looked curious, some looked confused, but the majority looked very unimpressed. She tried to imagine that they were students. Students always looked unimpressed during lectures and she had never let that put her off.

"Several months ago, I was contacted by our Queen, who believed that her son was suffering from such an illness. She requested that I diagnose him and present my findings to this court. My aim is neither to defend nor condemn Loki, but to offer my research and my medical opinion for the jury's consideration, so that you may decide for yourselves whether his actions were the choices of a rational mind or of a mind plagued by sickness, and devise a suitable punishment according to that decision."

A good start. Now she just needed to keep up the standard. She flipped open her notes, taking a deep breath.

"For four and a half months, I have been meeting with Loki two or three times a week. I have had equipment outside the cell monitoring him at all times," she was glad she couldn't see Loki's face at that moment. He didn't know she had been monitoring him, and she doubted he'd appreciate it. "From this, I have determined that Loki's mind is severely distorted as a result of a myriad of physical and emotional stresses. A simple scan at the very beginning of his captivity revealed that his energies were all wildly displaced, and his magic was behaving erratically – it was the worst case I have ever seen. If you would care to see for yourselves, here is a scan of a healthy Asgardian," she said.

Using magic, she conjured a visual representation of her data. It was a three-dimensional rendering of a head and chest, in which the activity of the brain and the magic clustering around the heart were clearly and neatly arranged. She placed this illusion to one side.

"Here is the earliest scan taken of Loki in his cell."

She conjured a second illusion, this one so different from the first that even an idiot could have understood her point. The activity was turbulent and irregular, and the magic, instead of gathering in the chest, was spread throughout the diagram, forming clumps in strange places and whirling and wheeling its way through his body.

"It is clear from this alone that Loki's madness is not imaginary, nor is it a weakness of the mind, or a failure of strength. There is clear physical evidence of illness, and in fact, he has been fighting, whether conscious of the struggle or not, to keep it under control."

She moved the illusions to the opposite side of the box so that the other speakers and the King and Queen, who stood behind her, could see them. She purposefully avoided looking at Loki.

She conjured another illusion, which looked like it was constructed by fusing the previous two. The activity it displayed was irregular and clearly unhealthy, but not to the extent of the previous one.

"This," she said "is a scan of Rannvieg Onämsdóttir, the Cannibal of Alfheim."

That received quite a reaction. Onämsdóttir was one of the most famous and violent lunatics ever to have roamed the nine realms, and all of Asgard knew of her crimes.

"She is being kept in a cell near Loki, so I was able to acquire this scan around the same time as the others I have shown you. If you compare her readings with Loki's–"

She reached back and brought the illusion back to face the jury, placing it beside the new one.

"– it is clearly visible that Loki's magic and energies are far more disrupted, and yet he is behaving, aside from occasional lapses, much more rationally than her. Now, you must not take this to mean that the scans are not reliable, because they have been vigorously proven in many academic studies, the names of which I have placed in the file you have each received. That he has the strength of will to behave normally at any time with scans like this is astounding, and must not be overlooked. In my professional opinion, this is evidence that Loki, with careful medical attention, has the potential to overcome his madness and return to a healthy state of mind."

She lined all the illusions up behind her, and turned back to the jury.

"Further physical evidence, which offers a possible explanation for the intensity of his corruption, came to light as his magic recovered and was allowed to build. Magic dampers in the cell prevented Loki from expelling excess magic as he usually would, so that once he was done healing, the scanners observed its recovery and behaviour as it began to grow to excess. What is shocking is that Loki's magic never stopped accumulating. In fact, there came a point where my equipment was no longer able to measure it. That was a month ago. Never before has such an enormous store of natural magic been observed or recorded. This may seem a trivial detail, but years of research strongly links suppressed magic to mental illness – you will find several papers on this topic in your files as well.

"After discovering this deep well of magic, I began to look closer for signs of trauma or disruption of his magical pathways. I found substantial evidence of extreme magical suppression. Some pathways are clogged entirely, and some appear to have ruptured, while others are blown wide and allow a dangerous amount of magic to flow at once. My work cannot, of course, fully explain magic or its flow within the body, so I can't claim to have understood completely what this extreme excess of it is doing to Loki, but I can link it to his mental state.

"I believe that although Loki received a high level of magical education, social and familial pressures prevented him from applying it at such a level that would be required to release the magic building up in his system. Over the centuries, it has been straining against him, slowly distorting his mind, and all it took was one traumatic event – learning of his true parentage would have been sufficient – to cause the magic to break its bonds and fully corrupt his sanity. If I am correct in identifying this event as the trigger, Loki is desperately ill and has been without treatment for nearly two years."

She ended this long speech and saw the blank expressions of the majority of the jurors. Some were flicking through their files, however, clearly looking for her research. She just hoped they believed her.

"These physical and magical conditions are not, however, the only factors contributing to Loki's madness. Forgive me, Majesties," Sigyn said, turning around to glance at Odin and Frigga. "I fear that what I will go on to say will sound disrespectful, but it must be said." She did glance at Loki now, mainly to convey some sort of apology for revealing what he had told her in confidence.

What she saw was absolutely not what she was expecting. He had been blank and emotionless throughout the trial, but now he was staring at her with a devastated expression. Outrage, pain, betrayal. There was no way she was looking at him again after this next part. She didn't think she could bear what she would see there.

"At first, Loki refused to speak to me at all, as I'm sure you would all expect. It may surprise you, then, to know that after a while, he spoke with me at great length on a myriad of personal and impersonal topics – and remember, he was being monitored constantly, and there was little indication of deliberate deception. I'm certain he wasn't always honest with me, but you must not toss aside my evidence based on any prejudice you may hold against him.

"Loki was a lonely child."

Here was her gamble. She didn't know whether she was supposed to be talking about him in this way, but she didn't see how anyone could understand if she didn't. She hoped Loki would never escape and kill her for it.

"As a Prince, he was kept primarily in and around the palace, with only Thor as a playmate. Thor's friends, Fandral and Sif, disliked Loki in that cruel, unfounded way that children sometimes do, especially with the smallest and youngest of their group. In the Academy, his fascination with the art of seidr placed him outside of most social circles, and branded him with the unshakable tag of ergi. Isolated and ridiculed for his greatest talent, there were three options left to him: accept this fate, fight it, or conform – but his status prohibited him from challenging social norms, and pride prevented him from accepting, so he tried to conform.

"In an attempt to live up to the name of Odinson, Loki temporarily pushed his magical pursuits to one side and focused on more princely occupations. War. Battle. Glory. That is what Asgard expects of its princes, not magic or scholarship. Asgard wants warriors, and values little else. It was, therefore, with this realm's cultural values snapping at his heels that Loki went about trying to become Thor.

"Of course it did not work. Many do not recognise that Loki is one of Asgard's greatest warriors because Thor is its greatest by far, eclipsing any who stand too close to him, and in most other respects the brothers are too different to compare. Generally, though, Thor's advantage lay in his open manner, honest charm, and physical prowess, rather than any innate superiority; and yet Asgard constantly treated him as though he were indeed innately superior. Having lived as a Vanr in Asgard for many years, I can relate to the pains and frustrations of being treated as inferior, and ask you to search your own pasts for times when you have been in a similar position. If you are told that you fall short often enough, it is easy to start believing it, especially when it comes from someone you love. The opinion of Asgard would not have mattered to Loki; it was the approval of the Allfather he sought, but it was not forthcoming.

"Is it any wonder, then, that a lifetime of bitterness exploded into madness when he discovered that he was not his father's son – not even Aesir? In his eyes, and I would be willing to wager the eyes of most of Asgard, should they have known, his inherent inferiority was confirmed. Do you not all bear a hatred for Frost Giants that extends beyond reason? Do you not all shudder at the thought of them, terrify your children with stories of them, and pray that you will never encounter them? Do not deny that your feelings towards Loki have changed since the revelation of his true heritage. He has gone from criminal to savage beast – imagine how it would feel to discover the same thing about your own birth. What he did during those last few days in Asgard was a desperate last bid for paternal favour, spinning further and further out of hand as he lost his grip on sanity. I will not reveal exactly what he told me of the night the bifrost was destroyed, but I will say that he received what he saw as confirmation that he would never be enough, never be sufficiently loved, and committed that most confounding of crimes: suicide."

She paused here, allowing her words to sink in. She saw a few thoughtful faces out there, but she could still see that many of the jurors were still blinded by their disgust at being reminded that Loki was Jotun. A small number of them, she noticed, were looking, rapt, at something behind her. Was it Loki they were looking at? What was he doing? The humans were looking at him, too. In fact, Jane Foster seemed to be looking back and forth between her and Loki. He was probably straining against his bonds, desperate to break free from his chains so he could strangle her.

"He wouldn't speak to me about the void," she continued, opting to pretend she hadn't noticed anything. "Consider that. He would describe his own suicide, but not his experiences in the void of space. What we do know is that he left Asgard feeling a greater depth of misery than his mind could bear, and that somewhere in space he found the Chitauri. There is no information on this race in Asgard, so I cannot presume anything about their culture and customs, but what little I could coax from Loki implied severe mistreatment and possibly torture. The humans have supported this inference by confirming that he looked extremely unwell upon his arrival, and it took several days' rest before he began to implement his plans.

"It is difficult for me to continue now, since I do not wish to sound as though I am defending Loki's attack on Midgard. That is not my place nor my wish. However, I ask the court to consider the possibility of coercion and the extent to which his madness had escalated. Loki's actions cannot go without due justice – for that to happen would be an insult to the people of Midgard – but I ask you to show mercy.

"During my time with Loki, he began to improve. There are still many unresolved issues, and his scans still come out irregular and tempestuous, but I believe, as a professional and as a person, that there is hope for him.

"Many have received no punishment for crimes similar to his. You may deny it, but it is true. Aesir warriors carry out raids in other realms almost every day for no better reason but a thrill and a story to tell in the taverns. Many a monarch has engaged in petty and pointless war, and Thor himself nearly started one not long ago. Loki has been a good man for centuries. None can deny the role he has played in improving the lives of Asgardian citizens, defending the realm, and expanding academic resources. As a Vanr, I myself cannot forget the way he fought for our rights during the anti-Vanir movement, even after his wife's murder. Please, do not forget those good deeds when making your judgements.

"Remember him as your prince – the child wrapped in green blankets at the close of the Last Great War. The son of the Allfather, not of Laufey. Remember him, and do not believe him dead."

As Sigyn ended her speech, she felt like she'd overdone it somewhat. She could see the humans staring at her, their fury and disbelief barely contained, and the thoughtful confusion on the faces of the jurors and the council. She turned, dissolving the illusions that she had forgotten to move earlier. Behind them, the impassive face of the Allfather gazed across the room, and there were tears in the eyes of the Queen.

She wasn't planning on looking at Loki. She didn't want to see his face. She felt proud and ashamed at what she'd said. It was all true, wasn't it? Was she supposed to feel this wrong when what she'd done was right? She couldn't stop her eyes from darting to him. It was almost as though he had grabbed them himself and pulled them over. His face was still partially obscured by the gag, but his face was wet and his eyes were burning. Burning with what, she did not know.

When she returned to her seat she found it cold.

Gungnir struck again.

"Loki, have you any final words to offer in your own defence?"

The gag was removed once more, but this time Loki barely noticed it was Theoric.

He was still staring at Sigyn. She tried her best to look away.

He shook his head absently.

"The Chitauri are here."


	8. Chapter 8

As far as anyone could see, there weren't any Chitauri – but all those with a gift for detecting the presence of life confirmed that there were, indeed, alien creatures on Asgard. The Crimson Hawks had been put on a high alert and were conducting patrols around the city, each unit accompanied by a sorcerer. Hogun and Sif assisted them in their efforts by guarding the weapons vault, while Volstagg returned home to protect his family. Fandral would be helping to guard Odin and Frigga when he returned from walking the Lady Sigyn back to her home, accompanied by a unit of Crimson Hawks, but it was unlikely the Chitauri would dare to attack them. Thor knew where they would be headed. They wanted Loki – why else would they sneak into Asgard when they could have brought an army? They wouldn't be claiming their prize, however. Thor would make sure of that. He headed down to the cells and reflected on the banquet that had been held after the trial.

It had been an awkward affair. No one was in high spirits and no one particularly felt like eating, save Volstagg and a few members of the jury. The humans, in particular, seemed tired and dissatisfied, which made Thor uncomfortable. He had invited them to speak at the trial so that they might have the justice they desired, and if they felt that they had not been effectively represented, their time here had been wasted.

Gradually, though, Thor became aware of more than wariness in their behaviour. They whispered – constantly – and were growing progressively more agitated as time went by. Eventually, he had spoken out.

"Lady Jane, what is it that our friends whisper about?"

Jane seemed surprised by the question, and he could see on her face that she didn't want to answer. Once she had swallowed her mouthful of food, she replied:

"Oh, nothing, really. Nothing much."

He smiled fondly at her terrible lying and asked again.

"I would very much like to know. It seems to be troubling you, and perhaps I can help."

"It's really nothing, Thor. It's just about one of the stories we have about you guys on Earth."

This certainly sounded interesting! He hadn't heard many of the stories the humans told of Asgard, but the ones he had were excellent. They honestly believed that Loki had birthed a horse and that a giant had managed to steal Mjollnir – and that he and Loki had retrieved it by dressing as women! He did wonder, however, what a story like that could contain in order to upset them so.

"Your Midgardian tales are wonderful! You cannot keep it secret from me now, Jane. Please tell me."

She shifted in her seat, taking a sip of her wine.

"Well, it isn't really a proper story. It's just… In our mythology Loki has a wife – called Sigyn."

Thor stared at Jane for a moment, confused.

"You think…? I can assure you that they are not married. They have only known each other since our return from Midgard. In fact, she is betrothed to another."

"Thor," Jane said, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from continuing. "I don't doubt that, but even  _I_  could see the looks they gave each other, and I'm not the most observant when it comes to this stuff."

This time Thor stared for much longer, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Is this true?" he asked, cutting off Volstagg, who was about to make a smart comment about his gawky opened-mouthed stare. He turned to Steve, who was seated opposite him.

Steve, who hadn't been listening, politely asked for the topic. Then he frowned.

"Well I wouldn't say anything for definite," he said, "but I'm suspicious. I think she was a little more emotionally involved than she should have been."

"Exactly!" Jane agreed.

Thor frowned. "How could that be?" He glanced at Sigyn, who was picking silently at her food on the far end of the table. Then, after a few moments: "Who recorded these Midgardian tales? Was it a seer?"

"I… don't know," Jane said, and Steve shrugged.

"Usually myths are spread by word of mouth," said the supersoldier, "and they could have been changed a lot since their original versions. I wouldn't bet on them being too accurate. Have any been proven right before?"

"None that I have heard," Thor said. "Erik Selvig, we require your knowledge."

Erik, seated beside Steve and currently talking to Sif, turned around. He excused himself from the conversation and turned to Thor.

"What is it?"

"Your Midgardian stories – how many have proven themselves truthful?"

Erik's face fell. "Thor, I really don't know. Sigyn could have been a complete coincidence. I just… I feel like something is off here."

Thor nodded, considering.

"I shall consult my mother following the banquet."

The meal seemed to go on forever. He noticed Sigyn leaving fairly early with a plate of food. She had claimed not to be feeling well, and had asked permission to bring the food to Loki.

When the guests began to dissipate, and he had discussed with his friends where each of them would stand guard against Chitauri infiltrators, Thor approached his mother.

"Thor," she greeted him, a weak smile on her face. "How goes it?"

"It does not go well, Mother, as you know."

She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "We must be strong, my son. Times will grow rougher before they run smooth."

Thor appreciated his mother's comfort – more these days than he ever had before. He supposed when things go truly wrong, that is when family becomes most important.

"The humans," he said, "speak of a prophecy they have sung for many years. They believe – or rather, they have their suspicions – that there is a deeper connection between Loki and Sigyn than we can see."

Frigga nodded sagely. "They believe that they will wed."

"How…?" Thor furrowed his brow and watched his mother carefully. "Have you seen a vision of this?"

"You know I am bound never to speak of my visions."

"Mother!" Thor exclaimed. "If you have foreseen this, you must not remain silent! That girl is to be wed in a mere two weeks to another man. How can she marry them both?"

"I have not confirmed your suspicions," Frigga said, raising her eyebrows at her son's impertinent tone.

"And neither have you denied them!"

"We must allow fate to take its course, Thor," she said. "Besides, I would argue that she is a good influence on Loki."

"Would you argue that he is a good influence on her?"

The few guests that still remained were inching closer to the pair, eager, probably, to bid them good night. They could not have rumours spreading about Loki and Sigyn, whether true or false, so it was time for this conversation to end.

"Do not concern yourself, Thor. As you say, she will soon be married."

"I will worry each day until it happens."

-xxx-

Theoric's unit was on patrol in the centre of the city. Part of him thought this ridiculous, since if there were aliens strolling the streets, it was likely someone would notice. It may have been dark, but this part of town was always busy, and even disguised as the Chitauri were, there were magic users all over Asgard. Sensing life energies was fairly advanced magic, but he was sure there were enough good sorcerers around here that they wouldn't be able to hide. On the other hand, if anything broke out, this busy place was where the most chaos would ensue.

"Spot anything yet, Theoric?" Gilli, one of his fellow Crimson Hawks, had moved to walk beside him.

"Nothing. You?"

"Nothing."

The two walked another few steps in silence.

"So, your wedding is fast approaching!" Gilli grinned. "Excited?"

"In more ways than one," he replied, earning him an ebullient laugh and a slap on the back.

"I am certain that is the case! She is an impressive bride. You are a fortunate man."

Theoric's smile softened as he thought of her. She was more than impressive – she was perfect. Beautiful, intelligent, gentle, humorous… a little bit headstrong, but he liked that. She drank ale like a man and chewed her nails like a child, but the way her inky black hair escaped its arrangement to frame her face and the way she smiled with secrets behind her eyes...

Just as he opened his mouth to respond to Gilli, the pair were thrown back by invisible hands.

Theoric hit the ground some ten metres away and quickly picked himself up, looking around for his attacker. He saw Assur, the sorcerer, casting some sort of spell, and suddenly five hideous creatures appeared on the street, and one was directly beside Theoric.

He doubted the creatures – they must have been Chitauri – had intended to be unveiled, since the five of them were very much outnumbered by the eight Crimson Hawks, but they barely seemed to notice.

The creature beside Theoric threw out its claw to slice him and he ducked low, striking upwards with the spear he carried. The creature batted the spear away with ease and, just as he tried to rise to his feet, clubbed him with some sort of metallic growth that covered its arm. He fell to his knees, momentarily dazed by the strike, but as it brought back its other arm in preparation to impale him, its claws arranged like a deadly blade, he regained enough of his sense to launch himself at it. The creature stumbled back, distracted from its attack. Theoric did not wait a second before bringing his spear back around and running it through what appeared to be a gap in the shoulder of the creature's armour.

The screech it emitted was deafening and terrible, like the cries of a thousand wounded dragons. The growth on its arm began to glow. A ranged weapon! He realised a second too late to move out of the weapon's path, but fortunately the Norns were on his side.

Gilli's mace struck the side of the creature's head and it collapsed. The glow of its weapon fizzled out and Theoric looked around. The creatures were all on the ground, and they were surrounded by a ring of gawping citizens. That was just like Asgardians. Don't run away from the danger, like a normal race – either join the battle or watch it.

Before any of his unit could say a word, a gargantuan black and featureless ship rose above the palace.

He heard one of his fellow Hawks curse loudly.

"That cannot belong to these creatures, can it? It is far too sleek." Gilli asked, incredulous.

It was amazing that even in the face of an obvious invasion, Gilli managed to comment on the aesthetics of the opposing army.

"No," Assur said, and all eyes instantly flew to him. "That's a Svartálfar ship."

-xxx-

"Did you enjoy the banquet, Lady Sigyn?" Fandral asked. They had almost reached her home now, and she would be glad to be alone. She had insisted that she didn't need accompaniment, but Thor would not let her leave unless she allowed herself to be escorted by Fandral.

"Not particularly," she said. "It did not feel appropriate."

Fandral nodded, and she could see on his face that he didn't know what she meant.

"You visited Loki, did you not? How was he?"

"He would not speak to me."

"Oh."

They continued to walk in an awkward silence. The streets were busy even though the population had been warned of the Chitauri presence. As they passed the late-night market, it was still open and bustling, and there were still a group of children playing on a bridge across a small canal. Sigyn couldn't help but think this irresponsible. There was no way she'd let  _her_  children out on a night like this. She gazed up at a floating street lamp, feeling the warmth as her face was bathed in golden light. She wondered when she'd have her own children – and who their father would be. She supposed she would have a better answer to that question in a few days when Loki's sentence was announced.

"Have you heard any rumours yet?" she asked, turning to Fandral. He raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise at her breaking the silence. "About what they will do with him?"

He nodded – then shook his head. "I am uncertain how much I can say."

She wandered closer to him, but only marginally. "Please? I won't breathe a word," she said, widening her eyes.

He wavered. She pouted.

"Ahhh!" he cried. "I never could resist a pretty maiden. You must swear to me that not a word of what I tell you will pass your lips – or be written in your hand, or any other nonsense."

"I swear," she said, her face a mask of sincerity.

He waited until they had passed a rather rowdy tavern, its clientele spilling out onto the streets, splashing ale everywhere and singing.

"The truth is," Fandral leaned down, winding an arm around her shoulders. She wasn't sure that was entirely necessary, but she didn't want to discourage him from speaking. "The sentence had been all but decided long before the trial."

" _What?_ "

"Shh!" he glanced around, flashing a smile at an old woman who glared at him suspiciously. "The Allfather has been deliberating with the council for months, and made his decision several weeks ago. Thor was furious – you should have seen the rage he flew into. We feared for our lives. The Queen is furious, too, but does not show it publicly."

"So the trial was merely for show!"

"Please, my Lady, control your volume!"

"No!" she cried. "This is serious. Does the jury have no power at all?"

Fandral nodded, gripping her a little tighter in hope of placating her.

"If they unanimously agree that the punishment is too harsh it will be reconsidered. I would say that is unlikely, however. I have heard them talking, and they are not sympathetic."

A different breed of anger flared up in Sigyn then. A breed that came from deeper than her outrage over the corruption of the trial – one that seethed in her belly.

"Because he's Jotun."

"No, because he's a murderer."

Sigyn very nearly pulled away from Fandral just then, despite the good point he made, but he still hadn't told her what the sentence was. She squashed her anger.

"What is the sentence?"

Fandral paused. "Before I tell you, please do not unleash a wild bilgesnipe upon me. It was not my decision."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Impatient," he muttered, turning away to check for eavesdroppers. "I really shouldn't be saying any of this at all."

"Please, Fandral."

He looked down at her, and she wondered what he saw.

"He will be chained and banished to the Isle of Silence," he said.

Sigyn's stomach dropped and she stopped walking. Fandral stumbled before letting her shoulders go so that he could face her.

" _That cannot be true!_ " she exclaimed.

"It is, I am afraid. Please, my Lady, do not be so alarmed. We must continue on our way."

"What is the Allfather thinking?" she hissed, aware that faces were appearing at windows to watch them. "That is the worst possible punishment!"

"It is better than execution," Fandral said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Lady Sigyn, I understand that you must be upset, but any mercy is really more than he deserves. And who knows? If he can survive there long enough the sentence may be rescinded."

She nodded absently and allowed herself to be guided down the street. She felt as though she should be furious, but what overwhelmed her was grief. How could anyone send Loki to the Isle of Silence? He would never recover from his madness there! What good would it do?

The Isle was a place few had ever visited. Sigyn herself had never been near it, and never planned to. It existed in a strange isolated bubble of space near Asgard that formed a sort of small separate dimension. There was no sound on the Isle. Not a whisper. No rustle of wind, no breath of creatures, no trickle of water. Not that these did not exist there – the wind was cold and the creatures were ferocious – but they simply made no sound. Loki could scream and scream and never hear his own voice. He would be driven into complete lunacy. If he did not kill himself, as he had already proven was a possibility, the trolls that lived here would hunt him, or the volcano would swallow him. He wouldn't even be able to cry out. And chained? That seemed an unnecessary cruelty on top of an already brutal sentence. And the Isle was not impermeable. If the Chitauri were to find him there… It did not bear thinking about.

Fandral had said that this banishment was better than execution. Sigyn wasn't so sure.

They reached the tavern that she lived above and Fandral made some inane comment about it being one he had frequented in his youth. He kept talking as Sigyn looked up at her own window, and it took her a while to realise he was telling a story.

"… and you should have seen the look on Loki's face when the girl turned out to be the barman's sister. I have never seen him run so fast before or since!"

Sigyn smiled, not really knowing what he was talking about, but not wanting to be rude.

"You would have liked him, you know," he said, suddenly. "Before this madness."

She nodded slowly. "I do not doubt that."

"I have had my difficulties with him," he continued. Sigyn suppressed a groan. She wanted him to leave. She wanted to be alone. "He… well, we won't go into that, but I do regret what has come to pass. He has broken his family's heart."

"They broke his first, unfortunately." She internally cursed herself for saying that. Although she believed it, she knew it would make her sound foolish and naïve.

"I…" Fandral didn't seem to know how to respond, and he frowned at her. It looked like he was about to speak – possibly to remind her of everything Loki had done – but decided against it.

"Goodnight, Lady Sigyn," he said, sweeping into a bow and kissing her hand. "I wish you a pleasant evening."

"Thank you. Goodnight, Fandral."

She entered the tavern and had to physically shove a woman who was leaning against the door to her stairs. She threw herself onto her bed, ignoring the papers that she still had spread out across it, and allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the day's emotions.

Grief, fear, shame, sorrow and rage all poured from her eyes as her body convulsed with sobs. She couldn't believe that all she had gone through up until now was meaningless. She had gotten to know Loki – had spent hours with him almost every day, had been attacked, had been confided in, had debated and discussed, and had grown to respect him and…

But that didn't change the injustice of the trial. That production of the Asgardian court – that drama she had helped them perform. It was appalling. It was unjust. And now they condemned a madman to death, silent and alone? No. She was lying to herself. He wouldn't die alone. He would be found by the Chitauri, who had their own methods of punishment. He would die in unbearable agony, deafened by the sound of his own desperate screams.

How could his own father abandon him to that?

How could she?

Maybe she was overreacting. Fandral could be wrong, and the jury may yet decide to spare him. Besides, if Thor and Frigga hadn't told her about this, then they must still have believed that her research could save Loki. They knew the Allfather and knew the council. Perhaps it would be all right.

Yet the Chitauri were already here. She sat up, suddenly seized by the icy grip of terror. They could be with him right now. It wouldn't be hard to infiltrate the cells – they were impossible to escape, but easy to enter. They could already have killed him.

 _Calm down,_  she told herself. There were guards. They couldn't get to him. They couldn't.

Unbidden, an image rose to her mind. She and Loki lay on the bifrost bridge, far from the city. She could almost hear the sound of the water flowing towards the edge of the realm, and smell the purity of the air. Above them, the stars glowed like a billion torches, blazing at impossible distances, so far but so near. She could almost touch them… in her vision, she extended an arm to the sky and Loki took her hand, bringing it to his lips. She smiled and an arm tightened around her shoulders. She felt warm. Not just in the memory from her dreams, but in her room, sitting on her bed. The image faded as Loki leaned in and began to speak, and she strained desperately to hear what he was saying. It was no use.

No one could tell her that wasn't a vision. No dream could be that real.

Was that all to vanish?

Suddenly it felt as though her mind had been torn open by the Norns themselves and a heavenly light was pouring in.

 _That_  was her purpose! The reason for her visions! She had to prevent Loki's punishment. He  _would_ become a good man – she had seen it! But he couldn't be sent to the Isle of Silence and he couldn't be caught by the Chitauri. He had to live. He had to be saved, and the Norns had chosen her.

She stood and walked to her window, gazing at the top of the palace that towered above the rooftops. Tomorrow she would go and speak with Thor. She knew he would listen, and then perhaps she could get an audience with the Allfather. She still had a few days until the sentence would be officially announced, and that may be enough time to make a difference. Otherwise…

Her thoughts halted. Something seemed to be emerging above the palace. She squinted, trying to discern the object's identity from its smooth black surface. It didn't look Asgardian. It didn't look Vanir or Álfar either. Actually, come to think of it, it did look a little bit Álfar. She knew it wasn't, though. They would never go for such a deep and endless black.

A horn blew.

What was that? Where was it coming from? It sounded like it was rising from the ground itself, or ringing from the air.

The realisation hit her like a blow from Mjollnir.

Heimdall's horn.

Asgard was being invaded.

For a long moment, Sigyn's only thought was  _shit._

She didn't think before she snatched up a dagger from her bedside, tucked it into a fold of her dress, and hurried out the door.

The patrons of the tavern were ominously still, their drunken minds struggling to comprehend the situation, while the sober staff panicked. Sigyn didn't envy their position.

On the streets, though Sigyn tried her best to ignore it, there was chaos. The frail and the young were ushered into houses, while men and those women who were permitted gathered weapons and positioned themselves on their streets. Doors were barricaded, furniture was piled up to form blockades on bridges and roads. The city was preparing for war.

Sigyn ran as quickly as she could. Soon the barricades would prevent her from getting through as well as whoever was attacking, and she didn't plan on being trapped on the street. She weaved through crowds, raced across bridges and hurtled down roads. She barely saw anything but the blur of bodies and panicked faces, barely processing the sight of five dead creatures lying in the street and a voice crying out her name.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming a day late, so I apologise to anyone who might have been waiting for it. I was busy all of yesterday and forgot for half of today. So without further ado, here is Chapter 9.

When she reached the palace, she wondered if she could just walk in. Would they allow her? Was there even another entrance, or would they be blocked? It didn't matter. She didn't want to be mistaken for a Chitauri, so she rushed up the steps to the main door, cursing how high they were. When she reached the guards, she had no breath left to speak her name.

They knew her, though, and must have sensed that she wasn't an imposter. They let her through, and she ran about ten metres before stopping to calm herself. She needed to be careful now and proceed unseen.

The foyer was empty – frighteningly so – and Sigyn didn't know whether to cloak herself or not. The magic may be detected and they might think her an intruder. She didn't plan to die tonight. She would make her way to the cells and take a look at the defences before deciding on a course of action.

It didn't take her long to reach the cells, and she had encountered no one on the way. It was eerie, this silence. She supposed no one was here because they were all guarding more important areas, but she still felt uncomfortable. When she reached corner before the main door and still hadn't encountered anyone, Sigyn knew that whatever guards there were had to be around the corner, mere feet away from her. Should she send out her magic to investigate? No. Magic that penetrated its targets was easily detected. Her best bet was to cloak herself and hope that whoever was there was not a sorcerer.

She drew in a breath, calling for her underused magic to perform the underused spell. Fortunately, her sparse use of magic in everyday life meant that she was never completely devoid of it, and she managed the spell with surprising ease. The feeling of her skin buzzing with power was odd, and it took a moment before she was comfortable moving. She waved her hand in front of her own face, and, seeing nothing, knew she was ready.

She rounded the corner and desperately crushed a gasp.

Thor was standing right in front of her.  _Right_  in front of her. She had almost walked straight into him. His brows furrowed and his eyes scanned the air before him. He must have felt the movement of the air when she stopped so suddenly! Slowly, she moved back, and when he brought his arms forth to grasp the invisible intruder, he encountered nothing but the air. She closed her eyes, wishing she could breathe without worrying that he would hear her. Why had she never learnt silencing spells? She made her way carefully around him, thankful for the Aesir obsession with wide corridors. Not even Thor could block the way entirely.

When she reached the door she encountered another problem – namely, how to actually  _go through it_. She turned back to Thor, who was as tense and alert as a cat before it pounces. If he detected her and chose to attack, she would be dead in an instant. She wouldn't have time to unveil herself before his hands fell upon her, and that wouldn't be fun for either of them. She returned her gaze to the door.

She couldn't open it. That was certain. Was there any other way? She vaguely remembered a spell that allowed its user to pass through certain materials, but she had never learnt it. She suppressed the urge to curse as she remembered that only two weeks ago Loki had berated her for not using her magic to its full potential. Damn him for being right. Then again, she could never have foreseen herself being in this position.  _Wrong again_ , she thought. She was Vanir – she could foresee plenty of things. This wasn't the time though. The longer she stood here the higher the chance that Thor would notice her, or that he would decide to change position and stand directly before the door. She needed to get through.

She scoured her memory for anything she could use and drew a blank. Except… A month ago, Loki had insisted on explaining to her his favourite trick – projecting an illusion and then throwing himself into it. She had given it a try just to shut him up, but although she had managed to cast an illusion, she had been unable to teleport to it. Apparently that was the hard bit. She hadn't given it any thought since then, but she still remembered how he had explained it. Perhaps…

She looked back at Thor. She couldn't cast the spell while cloaked. Well, she could, but if she succeeded in teleporting, an uncloaked shade would be left behind for a few moments before it dissolved. Would he see it? Could she even cast an illusion through a door? She took a deep, slow, silent breath. She had to do this. At least if it failed she would be uncloaked, and although she would have failed and would probably be in a  _lot_  of trouble, Thor would be able to see that it was her.

She focused, calling her magic up to the surface of her skin. She tried to visualise the other side of the door, to imagine herself there. She placed her hands on the hard surface and let some tendrils of power seep through, swirling on the other side. She really hoped there was no guard waiting for her there. She felt the magic stem, and knew – or rather, hoped – that the shade on the other side of the door was complete. Now she needed to transfer herself to it. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling her cloak flicker. Now was the moment. Now she needed to just –

As her mind began to feel like it was leaving her body, she felt a sharp tug in her chest and snapped back, her eyes flying open. The door was still before her. She drew her cloak back around herself so quickly that it burned, spinning around to stare at Thor. He remained unmoved. He hadn't even twitched. She leaned against the door, her chest throbbing with the pain of her failed spell. She had to try again. She had been close. She could feel it. She couldn't quit now.

She turned back to the door, this time with an aggression produced by pain. She placed her palms flat against the surface, pushing her magic through this time. When she felt the illusion complete itself, she did not try to seep into it – she jumped.

It was the strangest sensation she had ever felt. For a moment she was hanging in nothing. It wasn't like being in air or water; it was actually nothing. No sight, no sound, no feeling. Then, suddenly, her vision was back, bright and disorienting. The other senses followed, and for a split second her body felt like it was made of light before solidifying, and her perception of weight returned. She stumbled slightly, surprised by the suddenness of the return to reality. She checked quickly that the illusion left behind had dissolved, and sincerely hoped that Thor had not seen a thing.

The corridor was familiar, and yet it felt so much more menacing today – longer, somehow, and darker. Perhaps because today she was committing treason. She cloaked herself despite the lack of guards, which in itself made her suspicious, and proceeded past the cells.

The majority of the prisoners were asleep, and Sigyn wondered briefly whether they had heard Heimdall's horn. They must have done, really, but perhaps they didn't care. She noted the positions of the few prisoners whose names she knew. Nasison was asleep, and this was probably the only time she had walked past him without some racist remark. Kjallakson was awake, reading a book. He had been here for such a long time now that she supposed he had earned some entertainment. The book did look like it had been read a hundred times, though. She felt a pang of guilt that because of her, Loki had been given new reading materials every week, while this man, who, although a traitor, had never killed anyone, was left to suffer such oppressive boredom. Rannvieg Onämsdóttir she had learnt not to look at over the months, but couldn't help herself just this once. Yellow eyes glared straight at her from the bed, following her as she passed the cell. She shivered, screwing her eyes shut and looking away. In her periphery she could see the gaunt Álfar woman standing at the barrier, a grin tearing her face in half. Her teeth were vicious spikes – teeth that had ripped into Aesir flesh. Thankfully, she did not speak. She never spoke.

When Sigyn reached Loki's cell, she could barely believe where she was or what she was about to do. She watched him. He was sitting at his desk, which was unusual. He never sat at the desk. She walked further so that she had a better view of him, and saw that there was a blank sheet of paper before him. No, not blank. What did it say? He sighed and dropped a pen on the desk, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes. He looked exhausted, and when he looked up at the ceiling, the expression on his face astounded her. He looked… defeated. She had never seen that face before. He stood, slowly, not bothering to push the chair back under the desk. Now was her moment.

She stepped into the cell and his head snapped around in alarm. As the magic dampers pressed in on her, Sigyn's cloak fell and his shock intensified, though there was no longer fear behind it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Sigyn placed a finger against her lips. He frowned. She walked to him, apprehension bubbling in her chest. She leaned in close, pulling him down so she could whisper in his ear.

"I know no silencing spells, so we must not make a sound."

"Why have you come here?" he whispered back.

"I have come to set you free."

His jaw dropped. Sigyn had never seen such an amusing expression of astonishment and confusion, and she couldn't help but grin. She motioned him to remain calm and quickly left the cell, calling a cloak back to shroud her as soon as she was able. Loki sat down on the edge of his bed.

She had never operated the barrier on the individual cells before, but she knew how the shield worked and the interface was similar. She used magic to mask her identity as she placed a hand against the wall beside the cell, hoping that she wouldn't get it wrong. Soon enough, however, the barrier fell away and Loki was beside her.

His expression was euphoric. A thick wave of magic enveloped them, and Sigyn felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs as it rushed through her, and she couldn't see for the bright light that filled the small space. Suddenly there were arms around her.

"Thank you," Loki's voice said, layered and thrumming with magic. Of course! His magic had been suppressed for months! Suddenly Sigyn felt lighter, healthier and she looked down at the paper cut she'd given herself the night before. Gone. He was healing her! Why? Soon the brightness dimmed and she could see Loki properly. He didn't look tired any more – he looked healthy for the first time she could remember.

He was smiling at her, and she could almost see the face of the man in her dreams. Almost. There was still madness in his eyes.

"I have secured us with a silencing spell," he said. "You may speak freely."

She didn't know what she was supposed to say.

"Asgard is being invaded," she said.

"I know."

"By the Chitauri."

"And the Svartálfar."

"Really?" Sigyn exclaimed, clamping a hand over her mouth. That must have been the black ship she saw. She shook her head, returning to the matter at hand. "You must leave, Loki. Leave Asgard. It is not safe for you, and… well, if anyone finds out I did this…"

"They will find out nothing." A hand cupped her cheek and she started at the contact. "I know of secret places between the realms. That is where I will go."

Suddenly Sigyn's emotions caught up with her and she felt tears rising in her eyes. She wasn't even sure what she was feeling – she just wanted to cry.

"It was an honour to meet you, Loki," she said. "I hope you can find peace."

He nodded, his smile slipping. It seemed like he was getting bored and wanted to leave. She stepped back and took a small bow, and then began to call her magic back to cloak her – but couldn't. Her eyes darted to Loki, accusing.

"What have you done to my–"

"Come with me."

Sigyn was uncomprehending.

"What?"

"Come with me," he repeated. "Escape with me. Live with me."

She searched his face for insincerity. She found none. His face was carefully neutral, but his eyes spoke volumes of need and fear and hope.

"I… I cannot," she said, and a sliver of fear wound its way around her heart. "I have a family. I have a wedding in two weeks. I – There are responsibilities–"

He took her right hand, shaking his head. "None of that matters," he said, his voice like velvet. "I will treat you like a queen. You will want for nothing."

She looked into his eyes, distracted by his thumb softly brushing her hand. Did he mean it? Did he want her?  _No, Sigyn_ , a voice said in the back of her mind. It sounded like her mother.  _He is a liar and a murderer. He will use you, and when he is bored – or satisfied – he will leave you in some faraway realm, lost and alone. If you're lucky._ The voice was right. She needed to get away from him. He began to draw her closer, but she pulled away, and her fear intensified as she saw the flash of anger and rejection cross his face.

"Very well," he said, his tone growing bitter. "I wish you success, Sigyn. Goodbye."

And in a moment he was gone. The magic that surrounded her faded after a few seconds, giving her time to cloak herself once more. She wished she could teleport like that. She didn't know how she would get out of here, especially since they were bound to notice Loki was gone any second.

As if on cue, the door she had come through was thrown open and Thor stormed in.

"Loki!" he bellowed.

Sigyn flattened herself against the wall furthest from where Thor was likely to walk. When he reached the cell and saw that it was empty, he fell to his knees.

"NO!"

Sigyn's eyes widened as Thor began to weep. He thought Loki had been taken by the Chitauri! She couldn't let him believe that. Not when Loki was safe. Could she? For a split second she almost revealed herself and confessed to him, but then another option came to her. She strode over to Loki's desk, glancing to make sure Thor wasn't looking, and picked up the pen.

Then almost dropped it.

On the paper were three intelligible words:  _Dear Lady Sigyn_. The rest of the paper was a mess of scribbles and half formed sentences. This was what he had been writing when she arrived? Why didn't he show her? She squinted, trying to work out what some of the scribbled out words said, but it was no use and she needed to do this before Thor got up.

Trying her very best to imitate the handwriting and messiness of what had already been written on the paper, she wrote another message:  _I have found a way to escape. I will_  – and then some scribbles. She hastily replaced the pen and, with one last look at Thor, fled the cells. She ran through the door Thor had left open, and ran halfway to the foyer before realising that she needed to do something to corroborate the reports that the guards would no doubt make of her entering the palace.

She turned back just as a mighty thud shook the building. She whirled around, searching for some indication of what was happening. There was nothing, but she supposed it must be the ship.  _Damn_ , she thought. If she died tonight her last conscious thought would be a curse upon herself for not going with Loki. Whatever he did with her, at least she would have lived a little longer.

She ran back down to the cells as fast as she could, uncloaked. She expressed shock when she noticed the open door, and made her way quickly down the short corridor to Loki's cell.

"Thor?" she asked, feigning surprise. He was sat on the bed, the letter slightly crumpled in his hand. "What – where is Loki?"

"Escaped," Thor said, his voice still shaking, but laced with anger. He held out the letter for her and she took it. Pretending to read it, she screwed up her face in mock confusion.

"How?" she asked.

"I know not."

She looked at the letter again, and gasped. "It's… addressed to me!"

Thor looked up at her. "He seemed fond of you."

This was too strange for Sigyn now. She needed to go home – not that that was much of an option when the city was under attack.

"Why are you here?" Thor suddenly stood.

"I came because I – I – I'm not sure. I heard the horn, and I… I wanted to see him. I panicked," she said. "But he's gone."

Thor narrowed his eyes at her, but seemed to accept this explanation. It occurred to her that he was much smarter than he often got credit for, and she made a note to be careful.

"Come, my Lady," he said, striding out of the cell. "We must take you to safety."

-xxx-

It was three days before the fighting stopped. Sigyn spent those days in the palace, protected not with the servants, as she would have expected, but with Frigga and her handmaidens. Odin and Thor were busy on the streets or negotiating or a bit of both, so she did not see them, but she was always under guard by a different unit of Crimson Hawks. On the second day it was Theoric's unit, and his presence comforted her immensely, despite the strangeness she felt after Loki's proposition.

The handmaidens fretted constantly, and Sigyn thought it ironic that Frigga was helping them more than they were helping her. Frigga had always come across as a soft and harmless woman, but now Sigyn had revised her opinion – she was the strongest woman she had ever met. There was steel behind those gentle eyes.

Being in that room for three days, although she felt safer than she could have in any other corner of Asgard, was stressful. The burden of her treason was near impossible to bear on its own, but being in such close proximity with not only the Queen of Asgard, but Loki's mother, made it exceptionally difficult for her to maintain her deception. She felt as though at any moment she would break, or someone would notice that something was amiss. In moments when Frigga thought Sigyn was not looking, she thought she saw strange looks in her eyes. She wasn't sure what the looks meant, but it was almost as though she could see through her – as though she knew something. She supposed, with an uncomfortable flush of her cheeks, that Frigga might have seen the future as well. She was gifted with sight, was she not? She prayed that whatever the case, she wouldn't have had the same visions as her. Some of those visions were nothing a mother needed to see.

At the end of the third day, the palace was eerily quiet. Sigyn wasn't sure whether to think it was a good sign or a very, very bad one, but she was fortunately not left in suspense for long. Thor came bounding into the room, eyes ablaze, and announced their victory. Well, sort of.

"We have negotiated a truce with the Svartálfar!" he said. "I doubt it will last long, but we will have time to gather our defences. With any luck they will not dare to attack again, and the Chitauri have been gone since Loki's escape. For now, we are safe."

The room rejoiced. Sigyn felt exhausted. She needed her own bed, and hoped desperately that it hadn't been destroyed in the attack.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 and the wedding is finally here!

Freyhild was not a prostitute – that was something Loki had established long ago. She was simply a woman who was inclined to sleep with men who brought her gifts, and that certainly wasn't the same as being a prostitute. She had, in fact, been known to refuse the least desirable men, while still taking their gifts, of course. Loki wasn't sure whether this was a clever method to maintain control while selling herself, or whether she was simply not bright enough to realise that what she was doing was essentially prostitution, but anyone who accused her of being a harlot was quickly thrown out of the tavern and could never enjoy her company again.

He was only slightly embarrassed that he had visited her several times over the years – after all, she wasn't a prostitute – and was pleased that she still remembered him. He was equally pleased that news didn't travel fast in these regions and she had no idea where he had been or what had happened to him. He had hidden in various realms for two weeks before he felt safe enough to come here, to this disreputable Vanir tavern on the edges of Nidavellir. He was greeted as an old friend, given complementary ale, and presented Freyhild with her gift: a bejewelled necklace he had stolen from a market in Álfheim. She had been delighted.

He had spent the night at the tavern, and knew that now day had broken, he should probably leave. If he stayed in one place for too long, the Chitauri were likely to find him, and he wasn't ready for them yet. He looked down at Freyhild, whose head still rested on his chest and whose arms and legs were still entangled with his. How deeply was she asleep? If he tried to move, would she wake? He shifted experimentally and she tightened her grip.

Ahh, how he wanted to stay! He didn't pretend to harbour any feelings for Freyhild, and she knew that, but she still rarely allowed him to leave when he planned. She used to say that it wasn't every day she had a gentleman visit her, and she couldn't let him depart having only thanked him once. He had never found any reason to complain about this, and it was difficult to convince himself that he had a reason even now. Perhaps if he promised to return soon she would relent.

"Why so restless?" she muttered, breaking the silence of the morning.

He stroked her hair. "I must soon depart."

"No," she protested, lifting her head to blink up at him with large blue eyes. "I am not done with you."

He grinned. "I know, my treasure, but I must go."

She pouted, dropping her head back onto his chest. After a few moments, she shifted again, rolling over so that her chin rested on his chest and he could feel her naked breasts pressing against his side.

"You seem preoccupied, my Prince," she said. "What is it that bothers you?"

He frowned. "Nothing bothers me."

She watched him for a moment; then she offered him a playful smile.

"You think I cannot tell when a man thinks of another woman?"

Loki expertly hid his surprise. "What? My dear, you are mistaken. There is no woman."

"Your lies may fool me now," she said, her expression unchanged, "but you could not fool me last night."

He paused to think. Had he been thinking of another? Would that even matter? He was sure he had come to her before while longing for the embrace of someone else, and she had not commented then. He supposed a woman with her reputation must receive many such visitors, and she was bound to grow adept at spotting them. Perhaps there had been moments when he considered how it would have been if Sigyn had come with him. Was that what she had detected? He didn't see how it could have affected his performance.

"I thought briefly of a woman in Asgard, and for that I apologise," he said. "But it was brief. If I seem preoccupied, it is not due to her."

At this, Freyhild beamed. "Oh, Loki!" she said, "you are in love and you do not even know!"

He was floored. The woman was mad.

"Freyhild, I assure you I am not."

"But you are!" She hugged him tightly and then sat up, shifting so that she could straddle him. "What is her name?"

He felt irritation flare in his chest.

"She has no name, for there is no woman."

"So you continue to insist," she said, shuffling down his body until their hips were parallel.

"Freyhild, I–" his protest was cut off by an involuntary groan as she ground her pelvis down into his.

"Please tell me her name," she said.

"If you think this will make me spill my secrets, you are quite misguided," he said, watching as she threw back her head and brought small hands up to press on her ample breasts. His hands twitched as he watched her, itching to touch her himself. Sigyn drifted back into his mind. She was so different from Freyhild – smaller, darker, more softly spoken and measured in her movements. While Freyhild's perfume hung heavily in any room she had been in, Sigyn left behind the faint scent of parchment and something unidentifiable, something distinctly her. He found he missed that scent, and– stop! He cut himself off. There was a magnificent woman on top of him, caressing her own breasts, and here he was, wasting time thinking of some child who had rejected him. Ah! Perhaps that was the true reason. Sigyn had openly refused him, and now he wanted her even more ardently than before.

Freyhild got bored, eventually, and lowered herself back onto his chest, nuzzling his neck and nipping his earlobe. His breathing was fast now.

"See? Preoccupied," she whispered, but he didn't have the presence of mind to reply.

Freyhild had her way and thanked him again. He never told her Sigyn's name, but as he left she asked him where he was going.

"I am returning to Asgard. There is a wedding I must attend."

The knowing smile on the woman's face told him that she understood.

-xxx-

"Mother, please!"

"Be still, Sigyn!"

"Just stop it, you're pulling my hair."

Sigyn stepped away from her mother so abruptly that she almost knocked over a plate of cakes that had been delivered to the room not long ago.

"Sigyn, mind your dress!"

This marriage business was stressful, Sigyn concluded, marching away to sit grumpily on a ridiculously plush sofa. Because Theoric was a Crimson Hawk, their marriage was being held in the palace – hence the fancy room for her preparations. She was glad, really, because bathing with all her female family members, all her female colleagues, and all of Frigga's handmaidens watching and bombarding her with advice had been awkward enough, and she couldn't bear to imagine what it would have been like in a public bathhouse. Why she couldn't just shower, she didn't know. Apparently traditions were important.

Then came the dressing. In Vanaheim, the bridal dress was plain and modest, and there were lots of fresh flowers involved. Apparently that wasn't how they did things in Asgard, and she was trussed up like a hog for a feast in an elaborate and very uncomfortable dress. She admitted that she liked how it looked, but she much preferred to be able to move properly, and wasn't sure why she couldn't have just held onto her own realm's traditions. She supposed it wouldn't do to have a Vanir wedding in the palace of Asgard, and besides which Theoric's family were quite insistent on the whole affair being as traditionally Aesir as possible. The one thing she had been able to retain, however, were the flowers on her bridal crown – apparently in Asgard they used expensive gems instead of flowers, but she had compromised by having flowers made out of metal and shining stones.

She sighed heavily. She had to admit that it was a dream wedding – the sort that little girls all over the nine realms fantasised about and prayed for. Her dress was a shimmering gold, her hair was an intricate nest of curls and jewels, and her face was painted with makeup she would have to work for a month to afford. Hrefna, who had spotted her sitting on her own and was quickly approaching, was similarly clad in a golden dress as bridesmaid, and was probably more excited than Sigyn herself.

"Ready, Sigyn?"

"Not at all."

Hrefna frowned momentarily, then gushed: "I've peeked into the hall. It is magnificent. Everything is so perfect you will have to concentrate not to faint!"

"Have you seen Theoric yet? How does he look?"

"I haven't, although I imagine he will be wearing the standard Crimson Hawk dress armour. Is everything ok, Sigyn?"

She wouldn't admit it even to herself, but Sigyn had been finding it difficult to see herself marrying Theoric over the last two weeks. For the most part, she put it down to nerves, but deep down she knew it was beyond that. Things had been going well, especially after their night together, but recently their conversation had grown stilted again, and even though he was very handsome, she was finding herself less and less drawn to him. It was as though something had gone missing. It was very possible, of course, that she had just been shaken up by the attack on Asgard – which, in spite of the truce, had been followed by another three smaller attacks during the past week. It was only a matter of time before there was another, which made it impossible for her to relax or to think about the future. She used to feel safe with Theoric, but now she realised that she couldn't be safe anywhere.

"Everything is fine, Hrefna. I am merely stressed – today is an important occasion." She paused, gazing across the room "I need a drink."

Hrefna swept an arm across the selection they had been given upon their arrival.

"Wine? Wheat Liquor? Mead?"

"Ale?"

Her friend shook her head to indicate that there was none, and Sigyn huffed. "Wheat liquor, please. If I cannot have ale, I need something strong."

-xxx-

Theoric had been given his own room in the palace, and was sitting there until the ceremony was due to start. He was completely prepared, but if he stayed here waiting much longer, he was liable to go insane.

"Some ale, Theoric?" asked his older brother, Hallvard.

"No, thank you. I need to be as sober as a stone at least until the ceremony ends."

Hallvard laughed. "You shall be the only one!"

Looking around the room, Hallvard was probably right. All his male relatives, friends, and comrades were guzzling the complementary drinks with no regard to their drunkenness. They had better not ruin the wedding or he would be furious.

"I'm going for a walk," Theoric said, standing up. He placed the ancestral sword he would be giving to Sigyn during the ceremony in its sheath on his belt. "Please do not tell anyone that I have gone. I shall be back with plenty of time to spare, and I do not want them to follow me."

"Careful, Theoric. Keep track of the time," Hallvard said.

He left, making his way towards the balcony on the floor below that he knew looked over the gardens.

-xxx-

"Oh Sigyn, what are you drinking?" her mother scurried over and took the glass from her hand. Sniffing it, she made a face, turned around and gave trust it into the unsuspecting hands of Aunty Astrid. "You mustn't get drunk. You have a wedding to attend! Where is the sword?"

Behind her, Aunty Astrid took a large gulp of the wheat liquor and spluttered as if choking.

"It's here," she said, lifting the thing and brandishing it.

"And the ring?"

"Here."

Her mother smiled. "You must be so excited. I was, too, on my wedding day!"

"Yes," Sigyn said, trying her best to smile back. What was wrong with her today? She had been excited for this before. Was it just anxiety? Was it Theoric?

-xxx-

Theoric had been standing out on the balcony for three full minutes, drinking in the fresh, cool air, when he heard it. Soft – very soft. So soft that he was barely sure he heard it. A footstep.

He turned around and saw nothing.

Turning back, he felt uneasy, and it was another several minutes before he heard it again. This time, he drew the ancestral sword.

"Show yourself!"

There was a disembodied chuckle. "Very good."

"Who are you? Why do you hide from me?"

"I do not hide," the voice said, and Theoric felt a hand on his shoulder. The voice was close now: "I was observing. I will admit I am impressed by what I see. Sigyn chose you well."

Theoric grabbed where he thought the arm would be, but it wasn't there.

"Show me your face."

He cried out suddenly as something struck his arm, and he dropped the sword. He lashed out wildly and, by pure chance, hit the invisible man. Knowing his location, he took advantage as quickly as he could, grabbing somewhere around shoulder height and throwing the mightiest punch he could muster. Its impact probably hurt Theoric more than it hurt his target as his fist collided with hard metal. He cried out in pain again, but he heard his opponent grunt with pain and caught sight of the magical cloak flickering.

All the breath in him escaped at once.

"Loki!"

He had to call for help. He needed his unit with him.

The cloak flickered and dropped.

"Yes," he said. "I have returned. For you, Theoric."

"ALERT!" he bellowed, and Loki laughed.

"No one can hear you."

"How…?" A spell. A trick. He knew of these silencing spells – but he also knew that they were difficult to maintain. He had a chance. He eyed the ancestral sword, which still lay where it had fallen. He needed to retrieve it.

-xxx-

"My lips are fine."

"No, the top lip is not even. I absolutely must fix it."

Sigyn was getting mightily annoyed by all this fuss. She really wanted to just go to the ceremony. Her stomach was growling and the faster the ceremony started, the faster it would be time to eat.

She allowed the other woman to continue painting her face, but if she tried to fix anything else, Sigyn would be out of there.

-xxx-

A blast of magic hit Theoric straight in the chest and he stumbled back.

"That was a dirty move!" he exclaimed, but his opponent didn't care. A dagger flew at him and he whirled out of its path with barely a moment to spare – it scraped his cheek as it whizzed past.

He thought he could tire Loki out with the effort it took to maintain a magical shield and fight simultaneously, but it was soon apparent that he wouldn't succeed. Didn't the Hawks use to mock Loki's fighting? Well if he survived this ordeal, he would be sure to put them right.

A fist flew at his face and he batted it away, countering with a punch of his own. His fist passed straight through the other man's body, and his momentum carried him forward, stumbling. Loki was behind him. He needed to turn around.

He was struck in the lower back, and retaliated by swinging his fist back around with as much ferocity as he could muster. He struck the side of Loki's head and the Prince fell sideways, but before Theoric could use this sudden advantage, his knees collided with the floor. He became aware of a liquid coating his back, where he had been struck. It was painful. It throbbed. Putting a hand to his back, Theoric felt the wound, and his hand came back startlingly red.

-xxx-

It was time. Sigyn, accompanied by all the women she knew, made her way slowly down the stairs to the hall for the ceremony. She checked herself over once again. She had the sword, she had the ring, her dress was on, her crown was secure… she was fine. This was fine. Everything was going well.

So why did she feel so strange? It was too late to say anything. She could have broken off the engagement at any point until a month before the wedding, after which it would have been unseemly. It would certainly be unseemly now. Besides, maybe she did want to marry Theoric. He had been nothing but lovely to her, and she had been very attracted to him before. The spark would return. It would. She just needed to get through today.

-xxx-

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" Loki asked, picking up the ancestral sword. He had kicked Theoric to the ground, and the pain in his back was too much for him to stand up. He had been stabbed before and this was certainly no ordinary wound. Had the knife been poisoned? Enchanted? His mind was racing, desperately searching for a way out.

"Your woman," Loki continued, and at the mention of Sigyn, Theoric forgot all about escaping. His focus fixed itself on the traitorous prince. "I am going to marry her."

"You will do no such thing!" Theoric spluttered. What nonsense was this? "She will never consent, and if you try to take her you will face the wrath of all the guards and warriors in this palace!"

"She will not know."

Theoric watched in horror as his own face looked down at him, grinning a maniacal grin, before flickering back to the face of his attacker.

"Besides," Loki said, placing a foot on Theoric's chest and positioning the sword over his heart. "I wouldn't be so sure of what she would choose."

He knew that this was it – this was when he was going to deliver the final blow. He thought Theoric too wounded to fight back, but the sudden rush of love and concern for Sigyn had imbued him with renewed strength.

Seizing the foot that rested on his chest, Theoric twisted as hard as he could and was satisfied by the agonised cry that escaped the other man. With a final burst of energy, he propelled himself upwards, snatching a dagger that had been left unattended on the ground. He whirled to find Loki's eyes ablaze with fury and his foot still unpleasantly twisted. He lunged with the dagger, and this time Loki didn't have time to disappear, and dodged instead. This method, as it happened, was less effective, and the blade skimmed his cheek, drawing blood. Unfortunately, however, he used Theoric's clumsy momentum to topple him, not hesitating any longer with the sword he still held.

The blade pierced Theoric's chest with ease. At first, like the previous laceration, it felt like a simple blow, not a fatal wound, but the pain quickly found him. He spluttered as he tried to breathe, the pain incredible as blood filled his lungs. Loki twisted the blade viciously before drawing it out.

Theoric had always dreamt of dying in battle. He longed for an honourable death so that he may grace the halls of Valhalla, and that his family's pride could ease their grief. This death was the result of a fight, but no part of it felt honourable to him. He had never imagined himself spending his last few precious moments of life on a palace balcony, looking up into the sneering face of a man who planned to steal his wife. He had failed to protect her.

As his vision faded and his senses dulled, Theoric could think of nothing but his Sigyn. His eyes latched absently onto Loki, who had kneeled down – no doubt to ensure that he was dead.

"Wish me good luck for my wedding," was the last thing Theoric heard.

-xxx-

"He's here!" Theoric's sister called from the top of the stairs. Sigyn and her entourage had been waiting outside the hall for almost twenty minutes for Theoric to announce that he was ready. "He apologises, Lady Sigyn. He left for a walk not long ago and twisted his ankle. He is fine, but the shock delayed him."

"That is fine," Sigyn said, almost wishing that he could have been delayed for longer.

Hrefna clutched her hand. "It's time!" she squealed, and Sigyn held her breath as the doors were opened.

The hall was splendid. Beyond splendid – it was magnificent! Tall, grand, and shining gold, the room radiated beauty and royalty. Sigyn had to concentrate not to gape as immense gold pillars came into view and her eyes were drawn irresistibly up to the intricate artistry of the ceiling. Around her, friends, family, a large number of Crimson Hawks and a lot of people she had never seen before stood at round tables, their chairs tucked under so that they could seat themselves after the bride and groom had reached the altar. The path she walked down, accompanied by her entourage, met with Theoric's path perhaps fifteen metres from where she stood, and the paths, now combined, led the way to the altar, forming a sort of 'Y' shape through the tables. The altar made Sigyn want to turn right around and run away. Sitting atop a small platform was a magnificent throne, and in that throne was the Allfather himself.

Sigyn must have slowed down because she felt Hrefna's hand on her back, urging her forwards. She turned her head to look at Theoric.

A mighty boom rumbled in the distance and she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned instinctively to look at her Mother, silently pleading for reassurance, but receiving none. The woman's face, though desperate to remain neutral, was glazed with fear. The guests looked around, mumbling in concern. An attack. The city was being attacked.

"Be calm," she heard Prince Thor's voice cut across the growing discord. Sigyn turned to see him stood by a table close to the altar. "Do not fear; we are safe. This wedding will proceed."

There was a pause as nobody wanted to be the first to move, but Sigyn soon felt her mother's hands on her arm and was drawn forward.

She couldn't see Theoric until she reached the point where the two paths met, and in spite of her doubts, she had to admit that he looked extraordinary. The Crimson Hawk dress armour was a glorious gold and red, intricate and beautiful, but strong and proud – armour to honour a warrior. It almost looked as though it had been designed for Theoric. Every plate, every ripple, and every detail perfectly suited him and the colours blended wonderfully with his smooth tanned skin and brown hair. Sigyn wondered if she ought to have made more of an effort to match him. Her dress was gold, true, but the flowers of her bridal crown were many different colours, and the necklace she wore suddenly felt heavy. She had opted for a green gem as its centrepiece, not red.

When she and Theoric met one another where the paths combined, he clasped her hand. Not strictly a traditional protocol, but comforting nonetheless, especially as another boom shook the city in the distance. He grinned warmly, and Sigyn did her best to mirror it. To be fair, right now she was more worried about this very public ceremony and the very dangerous battle outside than whether or not she wanted to marry Theoric.

They walked forward, leaving their entourages behind. Sigyn couldn't see where they all went to sit, and she was afraid to turn around in case she insulted the Allfather. The Allfather who was sitting on the platform before her, watching her with a blank, serious expression and a tired eye. She tightened her grip on Theoric's hand.

The ceremony, in spite of Sigyn's rising anxiety, went fairly well. The Allfather had risen and read out some sacred texts, and when he glanced at Sigyn, a small smile graced his lips. She fought the urge to gape or blush or both. She and Theoric had exchanged their ancestral swords, vows and rings, and more lines were read. Instead of an animal sacrifice, which was still done in the countryside, the Allfather smashed a porcelain goat, and the couple was splashed with a few droplets of the water inside.

The feast had begun when the booms drew nearer. The Crimson Hawks in the room began to look restless, and Sigyn, from her table in the centre of the room, saw Prince Thor whisper something to his father. Her mother was smiling, but her expression was strained. It was clear to everyone that the feast would be cut short.

"Bring forth the bridal ale," Thor instructed the room, standing from his seat.

Sigyn stood too, looking around in confusion for the bringer of the ale. After a few moments, a girl appeared, dressed in a modest gown and carrying the most ornate kåsa Sigyn had ever seen. The girl passed her the cup and she stared at it for a moment before turning to pass it to Theoric, who was now standing as well.

For a moment they both held it, and Sigyn recited her verse:

"Ale I bring thee, thou oak-of-battle,

With strength blended and brightest honor;

'Tis mized with magic and mighty songs,

With goodly spells, wish-speeding runes."

She let the kåsa go, and Theoric lifted it high.

"To Thor!" he said, making the sign of Mjollnir over it, as tradition dictated. "And to Odin!"

Sigyn watched him take a sip from the cup, wondering briefly why Loki had never been included in wedding toasts.

The kåsa was passed to her. A boom shook the ground uncomfortably close to the palace. "To Freyja!" she said, and then, breaking slightly from tradition, "And to Frigga."

There was a murmur of general approval while she gulped down some of the ale, and she heard Theoric chuckle beside her.

"Fond of ale, hmm?"

"Of course," she said, mildly confused. He knew that already.

The Allfather stood, making his way back to the altar, and struck Gungnir twice against the hard floor. The room fell silent.

"I hereby declare and publicly acknowledge that the union of this man and this woman has been completed according to the laws and traditions of our people."

The guests cheered, grinned and poured themselves mead. Sigyn turned to Theoric and squeezed his hand, a small smile playing on her lips. He squeezed her hand in return and winked. For a moment she was thrown. She had never seen an expression even remotely mischievous on Theoric's face before, and yet here one was.

Something was amiss.

When the noise died down and everyone who had risen returned to their seats, Theoric remained standing.

"There is an important announcement I would like to make while you are all gathered here."

Sigyn noticed that the sounds of war had gone eerily quiet.

"I thank you all for coming here today, and I thank Odin for leading the ceremony." Odin. There were frowns as the guests processed the impertinence of addressing the Allfather by his given name. "It has been an enjoyable experience, and I am sure my wife agrees. I feel compelled, however, to inform you before the end of this feast that Theoric is dead."

There was a pause while the room floated in incomprehension. Was this a joke? A metaphor?

"Theoric?" Sigyn enquired once the pause had carried on too long. An uncertain smile hovered over her mouth as she tried her best to hope he was joking and not simply mad.

He brushed a knuckle across her cheek in an unusual gesture of affection.

"I am not Theoric," he announced to the room. There was something familiar about his tone – something that made Sigyn stop breathing.

She felt the magic unwinding before she saw it. She felt as the world tipped, and the realisation hit her that this was an end, of sorts, and a beginning. The guests were struck dumb, their faces a parody of incredulity and horror. Nobody moved but Sigyn. She bolted to her feet, turning to stare up into green eyes and golden horns.

That was when the door was ripped from its frame and the walls started cracking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did a little research on Viking weddings and apparently there isn't a whole lot of definite information about them. Some stuff has survived and some stuff is speculation. What you see here is a bit of what I read and a bit of fantasy to flesh it out and give it an Asgardian twist. I hope you enjoyed it! Two more chapters to go.


	11. Chapter 11

Sigyn's confusion was punctuated by the screams of the guests and the swift sound of Crimson Hawks and Einherjar unsheathing their weapons. She spun around to look at the door and saw a mass of Svartálfar warriors marching in and Asgardians rushing forth to attack them. In desperation, she turned to Loki, who looked more annoyed than concerned, and was about to speak – what she was going to say, she didn't know – when he was thrown to the ground by an invisible attacker.

He must have cast a revealing spell immediately, because the creature appeared in an instant. Sigyn couldn't help but let out a small scream at the sight of its ugly, mottled hide, and was horrified when, stepping back, she found herself enclosed in the hideous arms of a second creature. She had never received the battle training that all Aesir children were given, but she did have a sword, and she twisted in an attempt to stab the thing that held her. It tightened its grip and wrenched the sword from her hands.

Panic flared in her chest, and she wondered why the creature hadn't killed her yet. It emitted a grating, horrible sound and Loki whirled around to glare at it, pulling his own sword from the body of the first creature. How had he killed it so fast? He stared at her for a brief moment, sword half raised, with fury in his eyes. That moment felt like an hour. The creature's skin was rough and it smelt of pain and decay. These were Chitauri.  _These._

A sharp crack rang in Sigyn's ears and she stumbled as someone struck her captor and shoved it aside before its limbs had properly loosened their grip on her. She looked down at the creature, took in its smashed, bloody head and quickly looked away, shivering with disgust. Thor swept past her, Mjollnir soiled with blood, marched straight at Loki and grabbed him roughly by the collar.

"What have you done?" Thor roared. Sigyn had never seen anyone so furious, and even though the rage was not directed at her, she couldn't help but shrink back.

Thor was shoved savagely away.

"I don't have time for you, Thor," Loki bellowed in reply, and tried to step around his brother.

Thor blocked his path. "Why did you come back?"

Another creature appeared out of nowhere and Sigyn screamed as it grabbed for her. She stepped back hurriedly and grabbed the only thing within reach – the wedding kåsa – and tried to smash it over the creature's head. The kåsa didn't break, and nor did the head. In fact, if Chitauri faces could register emotion, she was certain what she'd be seeing right now was mirth.

Fortunately, her scream had distracted the Princes, and with one blow of Mjollnir her attacker was defeated and she found herself enclosed in green and black arms.

"Sigyn, are you hurt?"

She looked up at Loki in confusion, but didn't have time to reply before Thor was back.

"Loki–" he began, but was cut off.

"Let me take her to safety."

"It is your presence that makes her unsafe!"

She felt the arms around her tighten. "She is my wife now."

"She was not yours to take."

"If you will not let me leave I will not hesitate to fight you."

Sigyn felt the violence rolling from the two brothers in waves and couldn't fight the tears welling in her eyes. She wasn't a warrior. She couldn't deal with this. Thor spotted her tears first and put a hand on her shoulder. She met his eyes with hers and couldn't deny that it made her feel a tiny bit better.

Thor broke the eye contact to look at his brother.

"Remove her from this battle. But do not attempt to leave Asgard, Loki. There will be consequences for what you have done today."

And with that the golden prince was gone. Sigyn didn't need to look around to know that he had joined the battle. A few metres away she saw Lady Sif drive her spear through a Svartálfar warrior and use his body's momentum to swing the spear around and hit a second warrior, knocking him to the ground. She kicked the first one off the end of the spear and quickly impaled the one on the ground, spinning instantly back around to be ready for new attackers. She wished she could defend herself like that.

"Come," said Loki's voice in her ear, and suddenly they were moving.

They weren't attacked on the way out of the hall, and it took Sigyn a while to notice that Loki had shifted his shape again – this time to a dark-haired woman dressed as one of her bridesmaids. It was clever. The Chitauri wouldn't know where he had gone and the Svartálfar were too busy with the warriors to attack two fleeing women. He led her down several corridors and out onto a balcony before changing back into his own form. He didn't let go of her hand once.

From the balcony they could see over most of the city, and it didn't look good. The sky was red – partly coloured by the setting sun and partly by the fires that raged across the city. She could see citizens fighting Svartálfar warriors in front of barricades, lifting children out of burning houses, and desperately trying to conjure water from the canals to suffocate the flames. She saw a child leap from a window into his mother's arms just moments before she was run through with a sword and they both fell to the ground.

"We have to get to the edge of the realm," Loki said from beside her.

Momentarily startled, she blinked at him.

"We can't  _leave_. Look at this!"

Loki looked. He didn't seem moved. "There is nothing we can do. If we do not leave now, we may not be able to at all."

In that moment, Sigyn's mind caught up with her body and her senses returned with such sudden clarity that it was as though her brain had been submerged in cold water.

"What did you do with Theoric?"

He blinked at her. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!"

She wrenched her hand free and stumbled back, fighting to keep her breathing under control. "You killed him, didn't you?"

There was no reply.

"You did! You killed Theoric!" It took all of Sigyn's self-control to keep her stomach steady.

Loki's face was grave as he took a step towards her. "Sigyn," he said, and his voice was calm. "I fought him for your hand. He was unsuccessful."

She could have erupted with laughter. "You  _fought for my hand?_  No one fights for someone's hand! It's archaic! It's bar _baric_!"

There were hands on her shoulders and she tried to wriggle free.

"Sigyn, please, try to understand me."

She stopped and met his eyes. At the sight of pain lingering there, she felt her fear and anger waning.

"I killed Theoric," he said, "because I need you."

Despite the horror of what he was saying, there was something about his face, his expression, that made her feel safe. She needed to feel safe right now more than anything.

-xxx-

The battle in the Palace did not last as long as Thor had expected it to. There were a great number of Svartálfar attackers, but they did not seem to receive any reinforcements. He didn't know if that meant the Svartálfar were wearing them down or distracting them from another attack, but it did mean the immediate battle was won after a time and they were able to get the wedding guests to safety.

They were dazed. Even the warriors amongst them, who had handled themselves honourably during the battle, were in a strange state. A surprise attack at the end of a surprising wedding – no one had time to process Loki's appearance before the Svartálfar had marched in, and it was only now that the families of the bride and groom were beginning to understand what had happened. Thor had seen Theoric's mother break down in tears and be led away silently by her other sons. The rest of his family were either sitting in silence or had quietly excused themselves. What little of Sigyn's family was present seemed unsure how to react.

Thor watched Eir and several healers rush into the room to tend to the wounded, and was surprised to be confronted by Sigyn's mother.

"My Prince," she offered a quick bow. "Where is my daughter?"

The expression on her face told Thor that though she may be asking, she already knew.

"She is safe. She left with my brother at the start of the battle."

"Safe? Safe!" Thor took a deep breath to calm himself. His blood was still aflame with the excitement of battle, and the woman's tone was likely to make him angry. "She is with a  _madman_  and you say she is safe?"

He placed a hand on her delicate shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "My Lady, she is safer with him than anywhere in Asgard."

"Where are they? Where could he have taken her?" She didn't seem to have calmed down at all. A sudden horror erupted on her face. "Could he have– What if he has– My Prince, please find them! The marriage must be annulled at once!"

Thor felt a prickle of anger in his chest at her implications.

"You need not worry that Loki will harm your daughter, my Lady. I assure you that he will not," he said, though in truth he didn't know what Loki was capable of any more. "However, I swear to you that I will find them as soon as I can. I will bring your Sigyn back to you."

-xxx-

The route Loki took to the Bifrost was one that Sigyn had never taken before. From the balcony, they had gone back inside the palace and taken a secret exit that led them into a tunnel. It emerged some way from the city in a wheat field. It had to have been enchanted, because there was no way that they had run all that way in such a short time, underground or otherwise.

The field was shrouded in darkness, its golden crop casting strange misshapen shadows in the night. The sky was still red, but its glow out here was not so bright, and little of the smoke had reached them. Sigyn knew there was no one in the field. She didn't know how, but she was certain of it. The thought comforted her, and she wanted to stay a little longer, but Loki had insisted that they keep going.

They ran through the field, keeping out of sight, and Sigyn quickly lost track of where she thought they were. She had assumed they were in one of the farms in the west, and yet they had been running for some time and still hadn't reached the edge of another field.

"Loki, where are we?"

"Close."

"Tell me where we are."

She tried to stop running, intending to stand defiantly in place until he answered her, but his hand holding hers prevented her and she almost tripped.

"Stop!" she nearly shouted.

He did. So suddenly that she almost flew into his back. He turned around and grabbed her shoulders for the second time that night.

"We are not safe," he said, almost as if he were speaking to a child. Sigyn felt herself bristle instinctively. "You do not know where we are because this is an enchanted path. It was built centuries ago to allow for stealthy escape from the palace. We will emerge at the Bifrost and can leave this realm. Do not speak again until we are there."

This last sentence irritated Sigyn. "You realise that we need Heimdall's sword to activate the bifrost?"

"Yes."

"And that Heimdall will not be there – he will be in the city, defending the realm.  _With_  his sword."

"Yes."

She stared at him, trying to read his expression. "Where will we go? Assuming there is any other way to use the Bifrost, which I doubt. Where do you suppose is safe?"

Loki pressed his lips together, breaking eye contact.

"You do not know, do you?" Sigyn asked, panic spiking at the back of her mind.

There was no reply.

"The Chitauri can follow you anywhere, can't they? Anywhere in the universe, and you plan to take  _me_  with you." Sigyn felt her breathing increase involuntarily, but didn't fight it. She was more concerned about the pricking behind her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me? Why will you not let me go home?"

Loki gaped at her in disbelief. "Your home is burning! Are you truly so averse to my company that you would rather perish in that inferno?"

She shook his hands from her shoulders, fuming. "Would I rather die protecting my home than flee with my husband's murderer? I may not be Aesir, but I do have  _some_  honour!"

"Theoric was not your husband!" Loki roared, his sudden fury startling Sigyn. " _I_ am, and I command you to follow me to the Bifrost!"

All concern for volume forgotten, Sigyn roared back.

"You have no power to command me, murderer! You are not my husband and I refuse to follow you another step!"

"I will carry you if I have to."

"And I will curse you with every breath I take!"

Sigyn spun on her heel, her mind whirling and pounding, and stormed back the way they came. She didn't hear Loki until he seized her arm.

"Sigyn, listen to me, it is not safe. The Chitauri know of you and they will come for you. You cannot begin to comprehend the horrors–"

She gaped. "They  _know_   _of_  me? Wh– what does that mean? Why would they care for me?" Then, with a rush of fury, she shoved him away. "Liar!" For a moment she had almost believed the fear and desperation in his eyes. It made her want to retch.

"This is no lie," he said as Sigyn turned to leave again. He took her hand this time.

Her eyes blazed in the dim light. "Let go of me, fiend."

"I cannot."

"Let go!"

"No."

Sigyn screamed, swinging her fist around to batter his chest while trying furiously to wrench her hand out of his. She had to get away. She didn't care where she went, but she couldn't spend another moment in this despicable creature's company.

"Sigyn, please– Sigyn–"

She was vaguely aware of his voice and her name and words intended to placate her. Suddenly there were arms around her, and she writhed and flailed. One of her fists connected with something hard and she heard a grunt of pain – or was it irritation? Soon her arms were pinned to her sides and she wailed a string of curses, refusing to be still.

"SILENCE!"

Sigyn went rigid. Loki's outburst was accompanied by a surge of dangerous magic and an uncomfortable tightening of the limbs that endeavoured to hold her still. As she fought to catch her breath she was terrifyingly aware of the instability of the man that held her. He took several deep breaths and his arms marginally loosened their grip.

"I did not want to tell you here," he said, and Sigyn strained to read his emotions in his voice. "And I would prefer to speak to your face, but I fear you would try to flee again if I loosen my grip."

"Speak," Sigyn demanded. She did not want to spend a moment longer than necessary pressed against his chest.

"The Chitauri hunt for you, and will never cease that hunt, because they know that I care for you. They know that any wound inflicted upon you is equal to a thousand upon me."

"What?"

Loki's arms shifted.

"They will never end my life until I have watched you die."

Sigyn's mind reeled. What was he saying? What did this mean? The dreams… had they been true after all? Excitement bubbled in her belly, but a poison was spreading from her heart. A cruel and twisted lie – that's what this was. He had forced her into marriage and now he was trying to trick her into giving him her affection.

"Do you think I am simple?" This was no different from the first time he had asked her to go with him. He wasn't the man in her dreams – not yet. He wasn't ready yet.

"Sigyn, do not be difficult."

He wanted a prize, a trinket to congratulate his escape, not a wife.

"Do not insult me! You reek of lies. You have no honest speck upon you!"

"Sigyn, try to understand. I do not lie to you."

"Release me from your grip," Sigyn snarled, almost shocked by the venom in her own voice.

He let her go. For a moment she was startled and, instead of sprinting away as she had planned, she spun around to stare at him. The eyes she met with were pained, and in the dim, fiery light she couldn't detect even the ghost of a lie. She had never encountered anyone with deception so intimately woven into their being.

"What can I do to prove my affection?" he asked her.

"You can't," she said.

She knew she should have walked away at that moment, but something held her. Perhaps it was those insufferable Norns again, always interfering with what could be perfectly normal lives. She was tired and cold and she wanted to believe him. She wanted the life she had seen in the future.

He took a hesitant step towards her and it shattered her trance. Eyes widened with the realisation that her pause had hindered her escape, she turned to run – but a hand on her arm pulled her back, and suddenly there were lips against hers.

A tempest of foreign emotion thundered through her body. She felt a searing rage, a frigid, piercing jealousy, the festering lacerations of betrayal, and the intolerable agony of a profound self-loathing. She felt despair and horror and hatred beyond measure and she knew that not one of them was hers to feel. She was instantly overwhelmed. Her eyes were open but she couldn't see a thing. The world had turned black.

Then she felt something else. At first she couldn't tell what it was – it was so alien in the midst of the storm that threatened to consume her. She tried to grasp onto it, to isolate and examine it, but then she realised what it was: hope. She clung to it desperately as it grew and transformed and forgot where she was entirely. A bud of respect, a spike of lust, a shower of confusion and a wave of affection. Affection. Desire. Adoration. Love? She didn't know what love was.

She felt more than lost. She felt submerged in a vast and violent ocean. The darkness was still there – it loomed over her, deadly and suffocating, winding its venomous tendrils through her chest – but it was bearable. The weight of despair–

Sigyn gasped and stumbled when she was released. Her vision whirled and she grasped her head one-handed. When her mind settled and her feelings were definitely her own, she tried to understand what had happened.

"Those were your emotions," she said, hesitantly lifting her gaze to meet Loki's. "Weren't they?"

"Yes," he said.

She searched his face. The eyes of a murderer looked back at her. The lips of a traitor. The expression of a child.

She stepped forward and placed a shaking hand on his cheek. A minute ago she was absolutely certain he was lying to her, but now she knew better. No one could fabricate what she had just felt. Still, she hesitated.

"You love me?"

There was a tense silence as he struggled for words.

"Sigyn, I–"

She cracked.

She threw her arms around his neck and drew him into the most passionate kiss of her life. After a stunned moment, his arms curled around her and he returned her kiss with ardour. It was as if the world stood still. She forgot where they were and what they were running from. There was only him and her.

When they broke apart, she felt strange – like she had left a part of herself in the kiss – and she tried to kiss him again, but he stopped her.

"Sigyn, we have to go."

Slowly, she nodded. He took her hand again and continued down the path between the wheat.

It was too late to go back now.

-xxx-

Thor had promised Sigyn's mother he would find her, and he had every intention of doing so. Unfortunately it wasn't that simple.

"You can't see them at all, Heimdall? Did you see where they disappeared?"

"No, your highness. I was preoccupied with the attack at the time."

As soon as he was able, Thor had found Heimdall. The City of Asgard was in the full throes of battle, and the streets were in chaos. He had fought hard alongside the Einherjar, clearing the first two districts of attackers and ushering citizens into the palace, where they should be safer. He had carried the injured to Eir's healing rooms and gathered supplies from the stores for the emergency effort, and once things were a little more under control, he had the luxury to search for the watcher. He found him in an outer district, putting out fires and evacuating citizens, but he was unable to help.

"Loki can shield himself from my sight. It is doubtful that I will be able to find them, even if they are still in Asgard." Heimdall said.

"But what about Sigyn? Can he hide her too?"

"I am unfamiliar with the detailed workings of Loki's sorcery, but I am fairly certain he could shield them both."

_Damn_.

He thought hard, scouring his memory for anything that could help him find his brother. He had told him not to leave Asgard, but it was obvious that was his intention. Without Heimdall's sword, he would have to take one of his paths between the realms, and Thor didn't know where any of them were. It was unlikely that he would have gone through the city while the battle raged, however, and all the passages out of the palace led to–

"The bifrost," he said.

"He will be unable to activate the bifrost," Heimdall reminded him unnecessarily.

"I know, but he will pass it. I only hope I am not too late."

Uncertain, but with no better plan, Thor swung mjolnir and launched himself into the sky.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is here! Thank you to everyone who has read this story and to everyone who left kudos – it's always exciting to know that people are reading your writing. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have!

 Eventually, Sigyn and Loki reached a tall mountainside where the wheat finally ended. She searched its surface for something – a door? a cave? – that continued the passageway. To the left and right, wheat stretched out as far as she could see, and she was tired of walking. She wasn't dressed for travel, still in her wedding clothes and shoes, and her feet were aching and blistered.

"What is this? Is this a dead end?"

"No. This is the exit."

He squeezed her hand before letting it go and standing in front of the rock face. Carefully, he placed his hands flat on its surface and a large ring began to glow in the rock. As she watched, it grew brighter and started to hiss. He stepped back until he was level with her again, and the light grew blinding. When it subsided, there was a cave, just tall and wide enough for them to squeeze through.

"It is a defensive feature," he explained, "to prevent access to the palace. It only opens when a member of the House of Odin activates it. I'm only thankful that the system has not been updated to exclude me."

Sigyn wanted to ask what his plan would have been if the gate had refused to open, but decided against it. She just wanted all this to be over so she could rest.

He took her hand again, as if afraid that if he didn't she might change her mind and go back, and led her to the opening.

It was dark and tight in the tunnel, but she was so eager to be back in the real world that she barely noticed the discomfort. Suddenly and without any indication that they were near the end, the passage spat them out onto the edge of the rainbow bridge, in the new bifrost observatory. She let out a sigh of relief and as she looked around she saw someone she absolutely hadn't expected to see.

Thor stood in the centre of the observatory, mjolnir ready in his hand and fury in his eyes.

"Thor," Loki's voice came from beside her. "Come to see us off on our honeymoon?"

"Let her go, Loki," Thor replied. He didn't move. Sigyn felt fear rise up inside her and did her best to crush it.

"She's free to go," Loki dropped her hand theatrically. "She wants to come with me. Don't you, Sigyn?"

She did. She thought she did. She felt herself grow uncertain again. The sight of Thor seemed to bring her part way back to reality, to everything that had happened. She thought of Theoric and her chest felt tight. Thor's expression made it clear he wasn't going to let them leave, however much she claimed she wanted to go. If only she could rest.

"Sigyn?" Loki was still looking at her, his brow creasing as she remained silent. She felt something stir in her belly as she watched him.

"I know you can't let us go, Thor," she said, tearing her eyes from her new husband. "But Loki isn't kidnapping me. I'm going with him of my own free will. I wasn't expecting him today, but now that it's happened…"

She couldn't find the words to express what she was thinking and feeling. She knew she was making a mistake, but she wasn't sure she cared any more. She'd walked a step too far to go back now. She took Loki's hand and the smile he gave her was  _so close_  to one she'd dreamed of.

"What have you done to her?" Thor's anger was rising, and Sigyn felt a stab of aggression.

"He hasn't done anything to me," she snapped, and his gaze flicked back to her in surprise. "I made this decision myself."

Loki grinned and enveloped her in his arms. "See? Now if you don't mind, we'll be leaving."

He took a few steps towards the exit and Thor rushed forward to block it. Loki snarled, but Thor addressed Sigyn. "I promised your mother I would return with you. The marriage can be annulled. Sigyn, it isn't too late."

Sigyn's heart twisted. "Tell my mother I'm sorry," she began, but was interrupted when she heard a sound – faint, but growing louder. Then it was doubled. Tripled. She peered around Thor and saw an Einherjar battalion racing towards them down the rainbow bridge, accompanied by three longboat skiffs whizzing through the air.

"Loki!" she cried, pointing down the bridge, but he had already seen.

He didn't launch himself at Thor, as she would have expected. Instead, he kicked out sharply, tripping his brother, and pulled Sigyn out of the observatory. Before the disconcerted Thor had a chance to follow them, Loki had kissed her forehead, uttered a swift "sorry," and thrown them both over the edge.

She screamed as she fell, naturally a bit surprised, and prepared herself to splash into the cold water below, but instead impacted on the hard metal of another skiff. She lifted her head, staring around in shock, and locked eyes with none other than Amora the Enchantress.

"What?" she exclaimed. "Why are you–"

"Hullo!" Amora shouted back, throwing the engine into full throttle and speeding away from the rainbow bridge. Thor, the observatory, the Einherjar, all grew smaller as they disappeared into the distance. Only the skiffs followed them.

Loki reached for her and put a steady arm around her shoulder. "Amora agreed to help us escape, though we didn't expect the Einherjar. Stay here," he said, and made his way to the other woman.

"We have to shake them off. I can't have them knowing where the passageway is," she heard him shout to Amora.

"You really think they would follow you?"

"Of course they would!"

Amora nodded, and handed control of the ship over to Loki. She came and stood near where Sigyn was sitting and began weaving together a spell. Sigyn had never seen Amora at work and couldn't look away. She seemed to be pulling energy out of the very air and wrapping it into an intricate ball. The ball grew with every strand she took and it shuddered with instability. Suddenly, the boat lurched and Amora nearly toppled over. She yelled "watch where you sail!" over her shoulder as Sigyn reached to steady her and the ball shifted colour from blue to scorching red.

Amora steadied herself, leaned back, and hurled the ball of energy towards the three longboats that pursued them. The Einherjar pilots dodged it, but after it passed them the ball turned back and followed them, expanding rapidly. Soon its light had enveloped the boats and Sigyn heard their occupants' panicked voices over the sound of the engines. The ball of magic exploded with glittering energy, multi-coloured beams shooting out like fireworks, and when the smoke cleared the longboats were gone. Sigyn crushed a sob for the lives of the Einherjar who were caught in the explosion and forced her gaze forward to see where they were headed.

They had been speeding towards the fjords at the far east of Asgard's coast, but as soon as it was evident that they were no longer being followed, Loki changed course. She couldn't work out where they were going.

Amora took a moment to recover from her spell, then turned to Sigyn.

"I will be going now, I think." She looked over her shoulder at Loki. "You won't need me any more. The city is still under attack and they can't spare any more Einherjar to follow you."

"Go," Loki said. "Thank you, Amora."

It seemed to Sigyn that there was a little more weight behind Loki's thank you than she would have expected, but she didn't have time to question it before Amora seemed to dissolve into thin air and she was alone with Loki once again.

"Where are we going?" She yelled.

"Álfheim. I know of a place we can hide."

 _Ok,_  she thought,  _doesn't really answer my question._

"Where are we going to get another ship? We can't fly there in this."

Loki laughed, but it was drowned out by the sound of the engine. "Don't worry about that."

But she did worry. She worried about it a lot. They didn't seem to be going anywhere useful and she didn't want to be involved in another battle. She crawled to the front of the boat, too afraid to stand up for fear of falling off. Over the prow, she saw the edge of the realm speeding towards them.

"Loki, we're going to fall over the edge," she shouted to him, fear creeping to her voice. He didn't respond. "You have to turn away! We're going to fall!"

Panic rose in her chest. Maybe there was no escape plan. Maybe this was just a murder-suicide.

She lurched over to him and grabbed his shoulder desperately. "Loki, by the Norns, TURN THIS SHIP AROUND!"

The edge of the realm rushed up to meet them and–

-xxx-

Thor launched himself back onto his feet and out of the observatory just in time to see Loki and Sigyn disappear off the edge of the bridge. He rushed forward to look over at the water below and was relieved to see they had landed on a boat. Was that…  _Amora?_  The boat promptly sped away, and Thor watched the three Einherjar longboats follow it.

The Einherjar on foot reached him a second later.

"How will we follow them?" one of the soldiers asked, and Thor shook his head.

"You can't," he said, watching the boat dwindle into a speck. "I hadn't expected them to escape this way."

He could follow them, of course, but he found himself hesitating. He looked back towards the city and the red sky still burning above it. Sigyn's mother would be furious, and he didn't like to break his word, but there were more pressing priorities than retrieving a woman who didn't want to be retrieved. The way she had looked at Loki – they should have seen it coming. They never should have let it go this far. But it was too late now, and the people of Asgard needed him more. He would try to track them down once the realm was safe.

"We must go back. We have wasted enough time."

The Einherjar who had spoken before addressed him again. "But what about the lady and–"

"Leave them."

-xxx-

They didn't fall.

The world turned black and the boat lurched violently, but there was no sensation of falling. Sigyn clung to Loki, desperate not to fall out of the boat and into the darkness. After what felt like an age, but which was probably only a minute, the longboat was thrust back into the light.

Sigyn shivered as cold air hit her, and she threw her head around, greedily soaking in their new environment. She was shocked to find she recognised it.

"Álfheim," she breathed. "We're in Álfheim."

"I did tell you."

As Loki slowed the boat down to a more reasonable speed, Sigyn stared up at the pink-tinged sky, admiring the realm's eight scattered moons as the sun dimmed on the horizon. The water was calm, nearly motionless except for the ripples caused by their sudden arrival. They were on a lake, and she could see the blue tinted forest approaching from the distance. Loki pointed at a mountain far ahead of them.

"That is the start of Álfheim's southernmost mountain range. We are far away from the capital and no one will think to look for us here."

"Except the Chitauri, presumably," she said, and he took her hand.

"I am sorry, Sigyn. The Chitauri will continue to hunt us for the time being, but I will find a way to shake them off. I swear to you."

"How long can we stay here?"

"A few days. A week at most."

This was her new life. She felt fear tugging at something in her chest. She had left everything – everyone – behind, and she had helped a dangerous criminal escape. She could never go back.

She felt a knuckle brush gently against her cheek, and she looked up at the man beside her. What she saw startled her. As he looked down at her, his hand caressing her face, she recognised a gleam in his eye, an expression on his lips, that was at once intimately familiar and completely alien. It was how he had looked at her in her dreams.

He leaned down to kiss her, and her fear melted like the snow in spring.

-xxx-

It was five days later that Amora snuck out on a boat and made her way quietly through the pathway that led to Álfheim. Though the realm was still on high alert, watching for another wave of attacks and still hoping to catch Loki and Sigyn making their escape, she knew she wouldn't be followed. Even if someone did have the expertise to find her and audacity to do anything with the information, she could make quick work of them. The only reason she had waited a whole five days was out of respect for the newlyweds – and having no desire to walk in on anything.

She barely disturbed the water or made any sound when she arrived, but she had been spotted straight away. A projection materialised on the deck of her small vessel before she had sailed more than four metres.

"Amora. I was expecting you to come," the phantom Loki said. "Were you–"

"Obviously I was not followed," she said before he could ask. "Where should I sail?"

He directed her to a bank of the lake hidden by trees where she could leave her boat unseen, though she shielded it anyway for good measure, and led her through the forest. It took the better part of half an hour to navigate through the trees and climb halfway up a hill before they came upon a grove heavily laden with enchantment. She was intimately familiar with Loki's magical signature, otherwise she may not have noticed the enchantments at all – it was a thick cocktail of spells designed to ward off, divert, conceal and protect. Anyone passing through this way would walk around the grove without so much as a glance in its direction and with no inkling of the forces nudging them to do so. It felt very unnatural stepping through the layers of magic, but she resisted the urge to counteract it, and soon enough they were through. A small cottage – or more of a chalet? – was nestled in the trees. It was pleasant enough, but nondescript.

They entered, and the projection dissolved as it closed the door. The real Loki rounded a corner.

"Welcome, Amora," he said and gestured for her to follow him.

Inside, the chalet was warm – a little too warm for Amora's tastes – and smelt vaguely of honey. She followed Loki to a bland sitting room that contained nothing but two plush couches, a small table and a large pile of books.

"My apologies for the boring décor," he said, taking a seat. "It wasn't really a priority."

Amora sat on the other couch. "The décor is fine. It's functional. My concern is how  _warm_  it is in here. You're both going to die of heatstroke." She removed the cloak she wore for travel, draping it over the seat next to her. Good thing she never wore much.

Loki gave a mischievous smile. "Sigyn was cold and I didn't want her to have to get dressed."

Almost as if to defend herself against this lewd suggestion, Sigyn appeared in the doorway, fully clothed and carrying three cups of mead.

"It's good to see you Amora," Sigyn smiled. "Loki filled me in on how you helped us escape."

Amora opened her mouth, intending to ask exactly how much Loki had revealed, but a stern look from him put her off.

"It was really not a problem," she said as Sigyn handed her a cup. "Is this mead?"

Sigyn passed a second cup to Loki and curled up next to him, cradling her own cup and taking a small sip. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead, and Amora had to suppress a retch at the sheer  _domesticity_  of the scene.

"We weren't able to bring the wedding mead with us, for obvious reasons. I've been brewing this since we arrived," Sigyn said.

That explained the honey smell.

"Very nice. I trust everything has been going well?" Amora hoped they could tell she wasn't at all interested in hearing about how they'd been or if they were enjoying their little love nest. She didn't want to have to spell it out – it wouldn't do for them to start being offended when she had important things to discuss.

" _Very_  well," Loki said. He buried his hand in Sigyn's ticklish waist, making her squeal. She batted his hand away, trying not to spill her mead.

"Don't! We have a guest!"

But the way he smirked at Amora indicated that he'd only done it to irritate her.

"I'm so happy for you," Amora said with as much insincerity as she could muster, "but in case you've forgotten, you owe me a debt. A rather large debt."

Loki gave a solemn nod and took a swig of mead. "What do you need me to do?"

Amora tasted her own mead, pleasantly surprised when it wasn't as sickly sweet as she expected. If anything it was a little bitter. "I wasn't lying before. I do need something from Midgard. That sceptre you had–"

"Forget it."

Amora's head snapped up to glare at Loki, and she was surprised to find his expression deadly serious.

"You may want to think about that one more time before you give me your final answer," she said, pointedly, her gaze flicking almost imperceptibly to Sigyn and back to Loki.

Loki shook his head. "You have no idea what that sceptre contains, Amora, and who else wants it. Best leave it with the humans."

 _Who else wants it._  Amora considered for a moment. "Where did you get it, Loki? The mind gem."

Amora smirked as Loki's eye widened and he hurriedly took another swig of mead to cover his reaction.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"The  _mind gem?_ " Amora and Loki both stared at Sigyn as if they'd forgotten she was there. "Your sceptre was the mind gem?"

There was a heavy silence.

"What… what do you know about it?" Loki ventured carefully, glancing back at Amora.

"I have a book about the infinity stones," Sigyn stood up and wandered over to the stack of books in the corner, rummaging for a moment before pulling out the oldest and most battered of the lot and returning to the couch. She flipped it open as Loki and Amora looked on, bewildered. "See? Pages on each one. Tells you the history, sightings, times they've been used. Not terribly reliable, though, and nothing recent. This book's probably about ten thousand years old. Well made though. Hardly falling apart at all. Where  _did_  you get the mind gem?"

Amora turned her stunned gaze back to Loki, who floundered for a moment.

"Um– from someone very dangerous who threatened me with unending pain if I failed to return it. With the tesseract."

Amora let out a bark of laughter. "And I suppose the tesseract is an infinity stone too?"

Loki was silent.

"The tesseract is a stone too?" Amora exclaimed. "How did you manage to fail so spectacularly with two infinity stones?"

Loki slammed his mead onto the table. "I'll have you know that–"

"This is perfect," Amora clapped her hands together. "You have to help me now, Loki. Help me acquire the mind gem. Its powers are very similar to powers I already possess. I should be more adept at wielding it than you."

"I don't see any reason–"

Amora ignored him. "Once we have it, I can use it to steal back the tesseract. As soon as we are armed with one each I can help you get vengeance on Earth and we'll both be happy, with the added bonus that if your dangerous friend makes an appearance, you won't be empty handed. And of course Sigyn can help with her grubby old book."

Sigyn narrowed her eyes at Amora, putting the book to one side.

"I hardly think helping you steal an infinity stone is reasonable repayment for lending us a boat," Sigyn said.

"I'm sure Loki does," Amora grinned maliciously.

Loki only looked tired. "Don't make me do this, Amora. Or at least give me time to think. I have no real interest in getting back into any of that infinity drama, not even for the sake of revenge."

Amora stood up, putting on her cloak. "I'll give you one year – I think that will be a sufficient honeymoon period, don't you? After that I expect you to have an answer for me. And don't try to hide. I don't need to know where you are to hurt you."

If a year passed and Loki still refused, whether she could find him or not she would make their little escape scheme public knowledge. Sigyn may be naïve and doting, but even she wouldn't react well to finding out she'd been used and lied to. The only possible hitch would be if Loki told her himself or did something else to ruin the relationship before she could enact it. She couldn't rule it out – he'd ruined things for himself plenty of times before – but she was willing to take that risk.

"Oops, I never finished my drink," she said, taking the mead and chugging it. When she put her cup back on the table, Loki was already up to see her to the door.

"Goodbye, Sigyn. Always lovely to see you," she said.

Sigyn only nodded.

Loki ushered her through the door and down the corridor. She turned back to him when she reached the front door. "Will you be staying here long?"

He shook his head, his expression cold. "Now that you're been here we're leaving. I can't risk anyone knowing where we are."

She put a hand on his cheek. "Now don't be churlish. You knew I was going to want something big."

"I don't enjoy being blackmailed," he said, shoving her hand aside roughly.

She smiled cheerfully. "Well, enjoy married life. Give me a call when the sex gets boring," she addressed this last part to Sigyn, whose head had appeared from around the corner. "I'm always available for a threesome."

-xxx-

By the time the first dawn after the wedding had broken, the attackers in Asgard had been defeated. The Chitauri disappeared shortly after Loki – presumably at the same moment he left the realm – and though the Svartálfar took a little longer, they were no match, really, for the might of Asgard.

Within a few weeks, the damage had been repaired and the dead had been honoured, and Thor had no excuse to avoid the furious families of Sigyn and Theoric.

"You  _swore_  to me that you would bring my daughter back!" Sigyn's mother had raged at him. "They have been gone for  _weeks_! The Norns only know what he's done to her – my sweet girl."

Thor had done his best to placate her, swearing again that he would search for them, but he had little hope that Sigyn would ever be returned to her family. No one had ever found Loki when he didn't want to be found, and even if he could locate them, he could hardly force Sigyn to return. As much as it angered her mother, the marriage was binding if they had consummated it, and it could not be broken unless either Loki or Sigyn wanted it to be.

Theoric's family, similarly, were seething, but Loki had already escaped punishment for mass murder, and one murder more, while horrific, didn't really make him any more of a wanted criminal than he already was.

Thor contacted the rulers of the other realms, warning them to stay on the lookout for Loki, and providing them with images of Sigyn, in case she should turn up anywhere. The conversations with Midgard were the most awkward. Heimdall kept a closer than usual watch on sorcery across the realms, reasoning that Loki's magic would be most likely to give away his location, and Thor took personal trips to anywhere he thought his brother likely to hide. Months passed and there were no sightings.

A year passed and Thor began to wonder if Loki and Sigyn were still alive.

Then, on a day no different from any other, he received news from Midgard.

Loki had returned. And he'd stolen back his sceptre.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! It means a lot to me that anyone has read this to the end. I have a sort of sequel in the works, but I can't make any promises about if or when it will be finished, especially since I've got a few other fics going that will probably be finished first. If you'd like to read more of my writing, more will be coming! Thanks to all!  xxx


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